Before I continue, this is just a warning that this post will be lengthy, so you might want to bear this in mind if you are prone to eye strain, or struggle to digest and process large chunks of text. The silver lining is that if you happen to suffer from insomnia, this post might bore you enough to induce sleep. 
Just over a year ago, I plucked up the courage to register with an NHS dentist. It had been an awfully long time (many years) since I had last visited a dentist, and I knew there was plenty of dental work that would need to be done. In addition to a crown implant that had broken some years ago on the left-hand side of my top teeth, there's a chunk of tooth missing from one of the back teeth on the left-hand of my bottom teeth. That's just the start of it. After I had been contacted by the dental surgery to confirm that I had been registered as a patient, the next step was to obviously book an appointment. Unfortunately, during the time that had passed between initially contacting the dentist and being registered, I found myself in an emotionally bleak place and unable to motivate myself. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and I still hadn't got around to making an appointment. Sound familiar anyone? As things stand, I am currently waiting to be re-registered with the dental surgery I had previously registered with.
During the latter part of last week, I had been suffering from flare-ups of dental pain, but it had been manageable. Well, it had been up until the early hours of Sunday morning when the pain on the left-hand side of my mouth became excruciating. It (the pain) had spread up to my ear, and also down my lower jaw. In addition to taking paracetamol, I had been applying oral numbing gel to my gums, as they too felt rather sensitive. It helped, but not as much as I would have liked. After a good many hours, the pain did eventually subside for long enough to enable me to get some much-needed sleep. However, by Sunday night the pain intensified again and lasted for several hours.
There is a dental surgery (part of a large chain) a few miles away from where I live, which people seem to get signposted to when they are in need of emergency dental treatment, and they are either unregistered or in the process of registering with a dental surgery. Shortly after 9 o'clock on Monday morning, I phoned this dental practice and wasn't surprised to discover that the line was engaged. I kept redialling the number every few minutes, and after approximately 2 hours, I was finally able to speak to a human being. My relief was immense when I was offered an appointment for 4:20 pm that day.
As much as I absolutely dread going to the dentist, and as much as I dislike using public transport, there was no way I could tolerate any more excruciating flare-ups of dental pain. Whatever needed to be done was fine by me, as long as I didn't have to endure any further flare-ups of intolerable severe pain. Prior to setting off, I had applied medicated temporary fillings to my affected teeth, thinking that because it was medicated, it might help to keep the worst of the pain at bay and protect any exposed nerves during the journey. The journey to the dentist felt horrendous, as every bump and pot-hole only served to exacerbate my dental pain.
After arriving at the dental practice, I was required to complete some paperwork. This would have been fine if I had remembered to bring along my reading glasses. On the rare occasions that I venture out, I will make a point of wearing my distance glasses, but rarely does it occur to me to think that my reading glasses might be required as well. Fortunately, I had my son with me, so he was able to check that I had completed the paperwork properly and that my handwriting was decipherable.
Eventually, a dental nurse escorted me (and my son) into a room. With my son's help, I managed to explain my dental issues. She asked if she could take a look inside my mouth, not to do anything, but just to look. The dental nurse then disappeared to get someone else. Not a dental surgeon, but someone whose role was to simply count my teeth. Er, okay. This person and the dental nurse then disappear to get the actual dental surgeon. I am told that I won't be left in pain and that I will be given a prescription for antibiotics. It's explained to me that I cannot have any work done because if an infection is present, it can make the numbing effects of local anaesthesia less effective. Fair enough.
I am signposted to a nearby Tesco Extra with a pharmacy. Whilst I know there are some painkillers I am safe to take, there are others that aren't recommended. For example, because I take Levothyroxine for Hypothyroidism, it's advised that I steer clear of Ibuprofen because this can apparently cause bleeding in the stomach. I am told I can take Co-codamol, but as it can cause drowsiness and can also be addictive, the pharmacy assistant is of the opinion that I'm probably better off sticking with paracetamol. From my perspective, if Co-codamol causes me to feel drowsy enough to fall asleep, this will be a bonus because at least it will offer me some respite from my dental pain. I am sold the Co-codamol, and while I wait for my prescription to be dealt with, I exit the store to open the pack of Co-codamol and take one. After returning to collect my antibiotics, I then take one of those. The sooner it is in my system and can get to work, the better.
It had been shortly before 6:30 pm when my son and I arrived home. Less than an hour later, my son found himself having to physically restrain me. The pain was on a scale that I don't think I had ever previously experienced, causing me to thrash about uncontrollably and cry out in pain. Aside from worrying that I would do myself an injury, my son thought that all that thrashing around probably wasn't helping me with my toothache. He had mentioned something about blood flow. After about an hour, the pain eased off a little, only to flare back up less than thirty minutes later. This was the pattern until around 5 am on Tuesday morning, when I eventually managed to fall asleep.
Some hours later, I awoke feeling constipated and with a vile migraine affecting the right-hand side of my head, causing me to feel like it was highly likely I would be sick. Fortunately, I wasn't. I could feel my dental pain intensifying again, to the extent that it felt like the left-hand side of my mouth including my cheek, my ear, and my jaw were going to explode. It might sound counter-productive, but I decided to pick out the temporary fillings I'd applied the day before. Almost instantly, my dental pain returned to a more tolerable level, much like when a dental abscess has been drained, and the pressure that has been building up decreases.
After I have completed the course of antibiotics, I will need to return to the emergency dental practice to have at least two of my teeth extracted. As I'm a nervous patient, I cannot say I am particularly relishing the prospect. Not helping matters is that I have a small mouth, and even when I've been thoroughly numbed, I find it painful to open my mouth as wide as is required, for the duration required. As a result, I've had a good many dental surgeons politely ask me if I can open my mouth a bit wider because my mouth has started to close, and I have been inadvertently biting their hand. Oops!
The moral of this long-winded story is that if you're a nervous patient like me and absolutely dread visiting dentists, I urge you to face your fears and not to put off going, especially if you're in pain. The longer you leave it, the worse it will get, and the less chance there is of saving a tooth (or teeth) that requires attention. Do not be me and make the mistake of leaving it until a minor dental issue turns into something more problematic.
