Gum Saga

We were home from walking Buddy and Bruno around 5.15pm. 

No sooner had we got home, that I realised my gum under my bottom front teeth was flaring up with infection, again. Fuck this world to hell, I thought. It couldn’t have come at a worse time, late Friday just after any hope of contacting my dentist had disappeared. Damn you universe! Why did this have to happen now? (David would, no doubt, say in his stupid new age way, What lesson do you think you need to learn from this? We need 24 hour dentists?) Had I missed the tell-tale signs? No, I don’t think so. It hadn’t been noticeably sore, and suddenly it was. When it happened a month, or so, ago, I called my dentist and while she couldn't see me in lock down, she email the antibiotic script to the chemist straight away. All done so simply. Now, I was going to have to wait 3 days before I could talk to her, by that time I would quite possibly be toothless.

Dramatic?

No, I don’t think so. It is no fun having a sore gum for any length of time, without even thinking about the threat of losing teeth hanging over your head.

I've never had a filling, but I have been through 3 periodontists trying to keep my teeth in my gums. 

Grumpy old hygienist Stella from East Melbourne always said it was too much smoking, (her annoyance with my smoking drove me away from her practice) but surely it is much more likely to be an allergy to something. 😬