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We think she's done. The dentist phoned to ask us to come in early -- again -- and so Rob got home from work and we were all on the bus by 11:30 and got to the clinic in plenty of time. Emer resisted coming in this time, I think because it was yet another different nurse and she didn't like this one, but after a bit of faffery she lay down on Rob's chest with her head on his shoulder again and it was all fine.

She has had scraping, drilling, suction, air-drying, water-cleaning, jabbing, poking, and all sorts, and now her teeth are all filled, apparently. And private; she won't let me look at the fillings. She says none of it hurt. Actually, now she says the tooth he drilled through front to back hurt at the time but doesn't now.

Afterwards he gave her a soft toy - a chick from M&S - and said he wants to see her in about three months. And I said that since I no longer trusted our other dentists I was worried about Linnea's teeth, and so he looked at those too, and they are, as everyone has always said, completely fine.

I had at least three courses of antibiotics while I was pregnant with Emer. I really do hope her weak teeth are antenatal and infant-fever damage, and not genetics, because I'd love for her to have perfect adult teeth which take all manner of abuse, like mine.
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She is going back at least twice more for more fillings. And then I will take her back to her usual dentist to get a second opinion on the quality of the work, because, um, that's what I do, me.

They aren't nice white fillings like I have on my front tooth, but nasty grey ones.

I didn't cry in the dental clinic. Not even when the dentist said it must be something she was eating.

I can find records of four dental appointments other than today's in the past 12 months. But I know there's one more I haven't written down; I shall phone that dentist tomorrow and find out when it was. I know I've been paying attention to this. I know I haven't fed her sugared lemonade or cola or even blimmin RAISINS... But I need more evidence that it's not my fault, because I don't believe it now.
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I'm taking Emer in a week, because today I got a good look at her molars and they look worse than they did a month ago. We're going to the Other Dentist, as private patients, and I have an agreement from the dentist that she will examine every tooth even if Emer is crying and I have to hold her down. The last two appointments Emer had, they looked at her front teeth and Linnea's full set, and said they must be good because Linnea's are gorgeous and all of Emer's teeth visible without serious effort are gorgeous. I described the patches as best I could and was told that it sounded like antenatal damage from a fever.

But I got a good look today and they're not funny. I had Rob look at the worst two, too, this evening, and he agrees that it looks quite bad.

I feel terrible. But given that her teeth might be in trouble, it's far far better to go and force her through it now than risk bad baby teeth damaging the buds of her adult teeth, and of course it's better to take her to the dentist than to refrain from shame.
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As my aching tooth, my over-thirsty four-year-old, my toddler and myself were crossing the pedestrian shopping street today, a man who was stopping passers-by waved his beer can at me.

"Young mum!" he cried, "have you ever been paintballing before?"

I said "No thank you," but thought of lots of other things I could have said if I could have been bothered, later. "I'm older than you," for a start. "I don't need to, I have children." "That beercan looks very unprofessional, aging bachelor."

Honestly, everyone else says "'Scuse me" before they start their pitch - what made him think "Young mum!" was a polite way to address anyone?

Perhaps he was drunk.


Apart from that, we enjoyed today's sunshine. Emer and I spent time in the garden before the dentist appointment, and then we all walked around searching for a pharmacy, hampered by my being slightly crazed with pain so I couldn't really think of what the most efficient thing to do was. We found a Superdrug with no pharmacy counter, and then a Boots which did have one, and then made our way by degrees to Moondogs, failing to buy Linnea a new coat or jacket in a few places in the meanwhile. It probably wasn't the best day to try, to be honest.

At Moondogs we had coffee and cake - actually, the children had purple squash, which is about as stimulating - and then we walked home, gathered our wits and the birthday gift, and went to Iz's fifth birthday party. It was lovely and low-key and we had a lovely time. Linnea's will be in a hall this year but I was pleased to see that someone other than me has low-key food-and-games ideas.

I need to print off Linnea's party invitations and post them. And see if I can't do something labour-saving about a cake.


I went out to dinner with a friend on Friday evening and left my phone at home. I must do that again.
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"Oh dear," followed by "Is there any chance you're pregnant?"

So I had an X-ray and my unwise toothlet is visibly not fitting, now.

The root isn't properly open - apparently it's doing the wrong thing with the nerve, there inside my gum. And the tooth itself is trying to grow up out of my lower jawbone up into my upper jawbone, which it can't do. Meanwhile, it's damaging the adjacent tooth, inflaming the gum, enraging the general populace and annoying me.

Oh, and it hurts.

I have a week's antibiotic scrip, and some mouthwash, and OTC painkillers (and my sekrit stash of 30mg codeine phosphate), and in about six weeks I'll get a phonecall to set up an appointment for extraction. In a hospital.

I'll have to manage childcare; I hope it's straightforward. Though they are very well-behaved while I get my dentistry done, watching me have my wisdom tooth out is probably a mite traumatic for them.


I've been a bit dazed all day, probably from the pain. It's easing off a little now, possibly due to antibiotics or mouthwash or something.
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Back to the dentist, more antibiotics, I bet. I wonder how often "several times" is - that's how often this has to happen before they TAKE THE DAMN THING OUT.
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I've been taking codeine - codeine, to which I was addicted, which makes me sick - and paracetamol and ibuprofen and I still want to hit people.

There's nothing visibly wrong, but my head is throbbing as though it's swollen to the size of a London black taxi.

If I go to bed, I hope Rob is sound enough asleep not to be woken as I toss, turn, and whimper. Because if he wakes up, I am almost guaranteed to add whining to my repertoire.

Poor ole Rob. But at least he doesn't have wisdom teeth.
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I took the tyre and inner tube off the trike, put the rim tape on, and found it was over 18" short. Jeebus. Then I put the tube and tyre back on and started pumping, put the cap back on the valve, realised I needed to pump some more, and couldn't get the ruddy cap back off.

We came in and I washed the girls' feet.

I need to get the tyre done so that we can go to the dentist and maybe ERAPA later on. And I need to get more rim tape. Gah. I hope the inner tube survives the trip to the bike shop. I wonder if gaffa tape would help?

And I'm in acute discomfort, also.

Ho hum. Need to put on a load of laundry, load the dishwasher, pack a nappy bag and a packed lunch, and get the girls into the trike. Joy.

Bizzy

Dec. 17th, 2007 07:29 pm
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My children have excellent teeth, and plenty of 'em, I found at 09:20 today. Then I found that the so-called family-friendly cafe in the town hall doesn't sell fruit juice except in 125ml mixer bottles at £1.20 each. Uhuh. Then I found our way to the art class, where Linnea did a blue paint thing and Emer did a stick puppet thing. Then we went home, then I tidied the house, then I brought Linnea to nursery school, then I came home with Emer and clapsd. Then we collected Linnea and went grocery shopping and came home again.

In there, I fed everyone breakfast, lunch and tea too. I have no idea what else I did.

But it was fairly frenetic. Linnea is growing like a weed, and still convalescent, so tired and cranky a lot of the time. She's started eating properly again, which is good. But she's not up to walking quickly, or far, and inclined to fragility.

Emer is charming and affectionate, and today Linnea was good-humoured enough to ask to carry the bread home from the shops and hold my hand much of the way, just for love. So I sang her a little helper song. She really is lovely when she's not driving me up the wall. I'm not being easy to live with these days either - I'm on edge and easily upset. She's coping very well.

And I've booked flights to go and see my mother. Hopefully I'll only have to use the outbound one but you never know. Ferries and trains may not be convenient.

I must get the photos and write about ice-skating.

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