Look, I’ve come to truly appreciate my God-given teeth more than ever. Isn’t it fascinating how we tend to overlook many of the things that God has given us until we lose them, or when they malfunction due to our own negligence or “I-don’t-carism”?
It started somewhere mid 2024. I had just returned from the United Kingdom to the home of my temporary sojourn. One of my teeth started to feel sensitive and slightly shaky. I wondered why my supposedly strong teeth were suddenly sensitive to almost everything. Need I tell you about the numerous times I’ve boasted about how powerful my teeth were, to the point where I didn’t waste time using an opener to open the crown caps of bottled soft beverages because my teeth could perform the job more effectively?
But here was I. I couldn’t even drink water without feeling a tingling sensation. I suddenly lost my appetite for food, particularly the chewy ones that I loved to eat. I had to resort to a gentle, slow sip of Tom Brown and Kooko just so I did not starve myself into slimming down an already not-so-big body.
A few days went by, and I knew I had to seek dental care. Google spoiled me for choice. Each option of a dental clinic or hospital came with its distinctive hallmark services and perks, including the seemingly affordable ones and the ones meant for those who seek extra and want to satisfy the bourgeoisie in them. I settled on one; your guess is as good as the choice that I made.
The dental clinic was not far from where I lived, so I thought. The photos on Google also gave me the impression that it would be a welcoming environment. Google also nicely led me to their website, and I realised that I could book an appointment ahead of my going. I thought that might make things easier for me. I did and got a slot suitable for my usually heavy schedule. I was set to visit sooner.
I didn’t have medical aid, and not knowing how much it would cost made me a little anxious, but I thought I had a fair balance in my bank account to give me enough confidence to go. Did I even have a choice? Considering the pain and the barrage of discomfort that had visited me, I could do anything for relief. I picked up my bag, dropped my visa card in it, and off I was on a journey to the dentist.
With initial OPD administrative formalities out of the way, I was ushered into the consulting room and welcomed by a pleasant-looking dentist and his assistant. After telling him what had brought me there, he proceeded to do some examination. He was impressed with how (seemingly) modestly clean and healthy my teeth were and wondered what could have caused the sensitivity. He suspected trauma that my tooth might have experienced in the past. I went into my memory box to fish out when and what that might have happened, but I could not even find a teeny-tiny shred of reason.
The immediate solution they thought to give me was a deep cleaning session, and to wait a while to see how the tooth heals on its own. However, the dentist was quick to caution that I might need to splint my tooth as the sensitive tooth was also showing a sign of looseness and needed to be immobilized and to prevent further damage and possibly to allow it to heal. The X-ray result, as was explained to my layman self, showed that indeed my tooth was manifesting the consequences of trauma it might have suffered in the past. I was told it might have happened many years ago, and because I was not regularly seeking professional dental care, it had been left undetected.
I was given a special toothpaste to use for a period. I found some good relief after about two days. But I noticed that my tooth was not the same again. From time to time, I could feel it was a little sensitive, albeit not as sensitive as what drove me to the dentist the first time. I began to think about going back for professional care and advice. But I decided I would not go to the same clinic because the alert that came after I swiped my visa card set me on the path of anguish for some days, thinking about the many other things I could have done with the money.
Sometimes I try to take walks to balance my admittedly not-the-best-of-healthy lifestyles. One of such walks came with a gratifying discovery – a dental clinic just about a kilometer away from my house. It looked like the family-type dental clinic that would go easy on my pocket. When I googled them, I realized that they even offer free dental care to the community from time to time. That sure must be a dental clinic that is welcoming of all pocket sizes, lol.
Seeing that my tooth issue was not leaving me alone, I decided to give them a try. The cherry on top was that getting there was only a short walk away, and I could convince myself that I had exercised for the day.
The visit to my latest discovery of a dental facility landed me in a splinting “operation” as the other dentist had predicted. It so happened that my stubborn habit of chewing bones and biting into hard stuff suddenly exacerbated my already traumatised tooth and caused my tooth to nearly split in two. It felt as though my tooth was coming off. It happened during one of those proud “Chef Theo” moments. I was biting into a hard part of a crab that I had prepared with my palm nut soup.
With the splint done, I found relief for a while, but my life was not the same again. Then I hatched another plan. I would be going to Ghana, and I would seek a second opinion and find out how I could find a more permanent solution.
Another X-ray was done. Similar things that were said to me during my other visits were said again. I got them to do a regular cleaning for me and some reinforcing of the splint. I also sought information about what could be a more permanent solution. I was told about the options. Nothing about the cost.
Back at my base. My tooth got triggered again by my usual “bad habit”. I reserve the details of the whats and the whys. This time, I wanted a “permanent” solution. I didn’t want dentures. Eventually, the choice I made stretched my bank account a little bit, but I managed to convince myself that I could bear the stretch.
With a new visitor in my mouth, I was relatively better. But I realised that aesthetically it was not as natural as I wanted it to be. I went back and was told there was even a much better option. The price! “Ei! hmm”, is all I could say. By the time they fixed it for me, I knew I had to just pretend that I was on an elective fast for a miracle for God knows how long. The rest, they say, is history.
I did what I believed was best for me in many ways, but I also learned to value what God has freely given me. The amount of money I have spent fixing a tooth – just one tooth – is a memory that will stay with me forever.
Indeed, the blessing of the Lord – in this case, the Lord’s blessing of a tooth – is without sorrow. If only I had reminded myself about this, I would have kept this blessing sacred.
The author is a senior lecturer in media and communication studies.
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