On August 17th, in the most physically painful experience I can remember, all of my existing teeth were extracted. There were seventeen of them, and some of those were the roots of teeth that had broken off at the gumline.
Yesterday, November 3rd, I finally got the finished acrylic dentures. Counting the day of the surgery, I had been toothless for 78 days. The first 20 or so, I was in a difficult transitional stage. In addition to physical discomfort, I had trouble speaking without a lisp, and had to make dietary adjustments to eliminate all the foods I enjoyed that required chewing.
As so often happens, though, in about the fourth week I began to get physically and psychologically comfortable with having no teeth. I had adapted to all the new routines, and there were plenty of outside things going on to keep me distracted.
It's been years since I had the natural complement of 28-32 teeth; there were gaps all over my mouth where teeth had been pulled or broken off. I got accustomed to concealing the remaining teeth as much as possible -- smiling with my mouth closed, for example.
Now my mouth is full of prosthetic chompers and there's no way I can conceal them. It's gonna be awhile before I can recognize myself in the mirror, much less eat and talk clearly with them. Making matters worse, the physical discomfort is greater than toothlessness had become. The adhesive that holds them in is similar to joint compound.
At the moment, my favorite thing about dentures is taking them out. It's a sensation not unlike kicking off a pair of shoes that are too tight. Toothlessness, which was a pain in the butt at first, is now the comfort zone. Life is weird sometimes. I'm telling myself that I got used to gumming my way through life, and eventually I'll get used to this, too. But I expect it'll be a long, slow climb.
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