His Majesty's Teeth

Michael has always had a somewhat problematic set of choppers. He was not particularly lax in looking after his teeth as a child. Mum Judy made sure they were always brushed. As a teenager, he had to have a couple of teeth removed due to crowding issues, and as adulthood arrived, Michael seemed to be on a pretty permanent merry-go-round of added fillings on a yearly basis.

The first true disaster occurred when he lost his front tooth in his twenties. This totally predictable event was the result of his holding a kite handle. In his teeth. I rest my case.

His cap lasted an extraordinary thirty years. Since we became Beverley Hillbillies, we have discovered the expert skills of Vincent, Dentist to the Stars in Northam. Vincent has incredibly steady hands, explains all that he is doing in language for non-dentists and allows foot massage to be carried on in his room as a distraction for the one of us in the chair.

Michael's mouth has taken on the attributes of the Six Million Dollar Man. "We can rebuild him..." should be Vincent's mantra. Our brilliant dentist has taken my beloved's teeth and preserved each one if at all possible. So far, Michael has only lost one additional tooth in eight years. Fillings have been replaced and an implant engaged after the front cap finally failed. That was rather a long process - Michael was front-toothless for quite some time and was exceedingly self-conscious during his extended wait. The reason? Implants do not come cheap and we had to delay until we had secured the necessary funds.

Before and after his implant, Michael had not one but two crowns inserted onto his troublesome jaw.  The second of these was completed last Tuesday. The preliminary grinding and shaping of what remained of his tooth into a pylon-shaped wedge were both lengthy and tedious. His tooth looked like multiple fillings had been piled one on top of the other. After forty-minutes of having his mouth open, he then failed to keep his trap closed whilst pressing down on the mould...Cue another mould.

After Vincent attached the temporary crown, he warned Michael to be careful about foods near it. No sticky lollies. No really hard morsels. We studiously followed the instructions. The Big Day dawned. Whilst I went to the Big Smoke, Michael travelled to Northam for his new custom-built crown. Deciding that injections would be unnecessary, Vincent prepared to pop off the temporary crown and then install its majestic replacement.

Except the temporary crown refused to budge. It had decided that it was going nowhere. Michael began to regret not having any pain relief. I had visions of Vincent's foot against Michael's cheek as he hauled on the recalcitrant crown with a set of industrial pliers.

Eventually, the bloody thing came out, leaving the tooth behind. Michael's brand spanking new crown was then successfully anchored. The ordeal was over and was a testament to Vincent's dexterity.

My darling husband now has an implant, two crowns, numerous newish fillings and probably a partridge in a pear tree stashed somewhere in his voluminous mouth.

Private health insurance is becoming our godsend as we age. There is no way we could have afforded all Michael's dental work without this scheme. As it was, his latest crown cost the same as his fortnightly disability support pension. Poverty and dental work are not compatible.

Michael now has a Ring of Confidence around his rather magnificent teeth and mouth. Mrs Marsh would be proud. And he still can claim to have more symbols of kingship. He has a double crown in his hair as well.

Some famous teeth - Donny and Marie

Bingo...

The Cheshire Cat...

A major mishap...

Anatomy of an implant...

Avon Valley Dental's new mission statement

Familiar...?

Fortunately, Vincent avoided this technique...

TA-DA!

And who remembers Mrs Marsh - "just like the liquid gets into this chalk"...