Posts Tagged ‘teeth’

Caught in the vortex of the culture clash.

September 20, 2010

Back in Country A, people are pretty fucking nutty about their teeth. They are whitening, brightening, filing, capping, and straightening. Don’t get me wrong: I like nice teeth. On me or anybody else.

The thing is, here in Country B people are pretty fucking GROSS about their teeth. My dentist at my mom’s house talks for hours every time I go in about how when people from Country B move to Country A, it takes a full day to chip away at the accumulated tartar per tooth. I’m sure some exaggeration is included in that statement, but possibly not much.

Teeth here – in older generations, at least – can be  gray, crooked, rotten. Supagross.

This is no doubt partially due to the fact that dental care is one of the few things not free (along with fucking glasses, which is why I just shelled out for a pair that cost a THIRD of our IVF expenses/half the price of our monthly mortgate. *gag*). When you have a country where all healthcare is free – hell, you can waltz into the emergency room with a spider bite if you feel like it – people resent having to pay for shit. At least I do.

Which is why since moving here my own dental health has gone down the crapper. Nothing noticeable – but certainly not my 6 monthly check up and cleanings. I’ve now got a tooth that I suspect has a cavity, and it’s just so hard and expensive to get dental appointments that I’m sitting here every day, poking my tongue into the tooth and wondering if it will self-heal.

I’ve gone to the dentist here ONCE in the last ten years – well, twice. Once for a ‘check up’, once for a ‘cleaning.’ The check up took 2 minutes – no exaggeration – and the cleaning took about ten.

(Don’t judge me too harshly. I’ve also gone to the dentist in Country A twice since moving here, as I’m a bit snobbish about my teeth and wanted to go to a ‘real’ dentist.)

At the dentist here in my town, they were in ecstasies about my teeth. Seriously. I’m pretty sure the dentist creamed her panties.

‘How are your teeth so nice? Are they just like this, or do you work at them?’

Um, dude, I fucking brush ’em. You might not see that a lot over here. Oh, and I had braces for 6 months as a child, and retainers for my entire childhood. That’s why my teeth don’t look like a four year old child carved them into a pumpkin:

The dentist was like, ‘You probably don’t have to come every 6 months with teeth like yours. You can just come every year. You don’t even need to see the hygentist for a cleaning if you don’t want to.’

I’m pretty sure my dentist in Country A would have a coronary if he ever heard those sentences come out of another dentist’s mouth.

Me? I was like, ‘What the fuck is wrong with you? I haven’t been to the dentist in like 6 years. I just had a pregnancy where I vomited 20 times a day for four months, and then once a day for five months. I didn’t brush my teeth those first four months because that made me puke more. I also think I have a cavity.’

When you are pregnant – and for a year after the birth – dental care is sort of (mostly) free. My year post-birth has expired, so my little friend Mr. Cavity is probably going to hang around for a little while longer. He’s the black sheep in my apparently perfect mouth of teeth. (Which, I should add, my dentist in Country A would probably draw up a ‘care plan’ for slight discolourations, a rogue crooked tooth, and this cavity.)

And I know that if I need an ego boost, I should GO to the dentist here. But if I want to be made to feel guilty about not flossing, I should go to the dentist that happens to be 3,500 miles away.

If I have to leave the house on my own, I will need Crocs because shoes and socks are beyond me at this point.

April 16, 2009

Just booked our one-day multiples antenatal class. For some reason I was having a minor freak out about booking it – so picked up the phone and did it that way. Yesterday I rang these people to join their Exclusive World of Multiple Babies and they were lovely, and they were lovely again today.

Yesterday when I registered I was really impressed by how gender neutral the woman was. She didn’t ask for my husband’s name, she asked for my partner’s name. Now, I know over here ‘partner’ is a widely applied term – but so handy that it doesn’t imply a sexuality along with it. Today I was asked for my husband or partner’s name; I think these people have undergone some training or something because as soon as she said ‘husband’ she kind of choked up and quickly replaced it with ‘partner.’ Nice.

The weird thing?

She referred to TMD as my ‘birth partner’, but she MEANT ‘wife.’ As in, ‘Is this your birth partner’s first child/children as well?’ and ‘Are you the one carrying the pregnancy?’ She also groovily said (not in a nosy way – it was a question I had to answer for the antenatal referral), ‘I assume you used fertility treatments then?’

Anyway. Class booked. Next step is to book into the local hospital’s free class. No doubt it will be …uh….well, you know, I’ll shut my mouth and hope for the best. I don’t think or know if we will sign up for this other series of antenatal classes (private classes through a national charity – everyone in the world goes to them) as the hospital stuff might cover it anyway. I find it all odd as while I would certainly prefer a vaginal delivery, I just don’t know how things will turn out on the day – it’s like this for multiples. I won’t know for a couple of months yet. Maybe one of you can come over and just teach me how to breathe or something.

Other thing is that I heard back from the local multiples club – they have a meeting tomorrow. While no one believes I am a social hermit because I am so fabulously sparkly with people, I totally hate going along to stuff like this without a friend in tow. I was warned by the email lady that tomorrow might be a bit ‘manic’ as it is school holidays so lots of older twins will be there. Yikes.

Apparently there are a few new twins moms there, though, so it would be quite good to get to know people in the area. I was assured that people ‘forge lifetime friendships’ – normally a churchy cult statement like that would put me off, but actually, I wouldn’t mind a few local lifetime friends. But the meeting’s in a church. Gross.

I am really cooking with this whole babies thing. I am also not moping around or hating bedrest as much this week. In fact, I’m starting to enjoy it. I’m now in a dodgy area where I have outlasted my doctor’s sick note and have not extended it – not even sure where it is. Work has not contacted me and I haven’t contacted them, aside from some emails about my scan and a phone call from Green. I had a tearful half hour earlier this week about missing work, but this is what it is.

I’d rather be successfully cooking babies than struggling to make it through the days at work.

I still have some pretty big stuff to sort out – and the first thing(s) are getting a solicitor so we can make a will, as well as taking legal advice about securing TMD’s parental rights. The law here is changing and if we had conceived a few months later we could have both been on the birth certificate. As it stands, we have to work really hard to make sure our family and babies are safe.

I also need to find a dentist. Yuck. I don’t trust dentists here…but then again I’ve never gone.

….Really grey and gloomy outside today. Hardcore mist coming down into our jungle of a back garden. Regardless, I have done more stuff in the past two days than I have in the past two weeks. I also called the clinic yesterday and found out we will receive our donor’s pen sketch when the babies are born. I also asked about the woman I donated eggs to – waiting to hear back about that.

In the meantime, I may go make myself an ice cream cookie sandwich. They don’t have them in this country (horror, shock, disgust!), but I find they are actually a ‘recipe’ that is within the parameters of ‘things I can cook.’

Love to you all.

(Pictures coming later, assuming I can hook up our new memory card/camera to the laptop with no struggles.)

Everything makes me angry, and I feel mean.

February 8, 2009

Corporate T came over yesterday for the weekend. In his honour, I changed out of the outfit I’d been wearing for five weeks straight (one pair of pajamas or another) and put on A Tight Shirt. My stomach looked like some sort of …of…I don’t know. He asked to touch it, which to me means that it looks…um…

We took pictures I will post at some point. I don’t totally believe those pictures because they make me look VERY pregnant, but there you go. Having lots of twinges, feeling slightly awkward, keep touching my stomach. I don’t know. It just appears to have appeared out of fucking nowhere.

I am a quarter of an inch bigger than I was two nights ago, which is also .75 of an inch bigger than I was a week ago. Let the expansion begin.

(Have lost two more pounds though!! Everyone pray/whatever I start gaining soon.)

Poor Corporate T – after a week or so of constantly placing a high second place in the quiz show, I spent the entire weekend gagging, retching, vomiting, complaining of nausea, etc. This morning I also pitched a fit where I almost killed TMD (and might have had there been no witnesses), culminating in about two hours of non-stop weeping. It was attractive, I’m sure.

Just like my teeth that were never brushed today because I threw up this morning when I tried.

Symptoms this week: crazy moods, feeling MEAN, very sore lower back,  tired, cramps in lower back and abdomen, horrid pulled muscles/ligaments/something along both sides of my womby-womb-womb, twinges, baby movements, and one particularly interesting thing tonight that felt like I was having a VERY strong electric current pass through my womb for about half a second. And let’s not forget the vomiting. And belly growing.

Last night I freaked out because my big blue veins disappeared (I noticed when I attempted to show Corporate T my thighs), but he explained about how that happens when you are cold. He was right. Two hours later and they came back.

In other news, it’s snowing again. Assuming I manage to make it into work tomorrow, I have to decide whether or not to take crutches, and whether or not to empasize my new look. It’s been five weeks since they’ve seen me, so there is an opportunity for a dramatic scene. Still, I’m only 11 weeks and they might wonder why I look like I have swallowed a six pound bowling ball.

Part of me wonders if this is all because my stomach muscles have finally given up, rejoicing in being able to totally pooch out with no fear of repercussions. That would only emphasize my definite bump, turning it from a molehill to a mountain.

Teeth make people pretty, most of the time.

December 12, 2008

Last night was like some sort of maternal Fear Factor. I kept doing things and then thinking, ‘Fuck, why did I do that? I hope I didn’t hurt the babies!’

I don’t know what you know about pessaries. If you stick ’em up your pooper, those puppies are secure and will not come out or leak until you poop ’em out. (Incidentally, I’ve not pooped in over 24 hours. WTF.) When you stick them in the vadge department, as soon as they reach body temperature they begin to ooze out your cootch. There is no nice way to say it.

So you really want to lie down for about 30 minutes after insertion to give the meds a chance to be absorbed before you sit up and essentially piss yourself with white creamy stuff.

Last night I was doing the group with the kids. So I donned my trusty latex glove (there was no soap in the bathroom. Thank god I thought to bring a glove in case of this situation arising), shoved my bullet baby nice and high, and then promptly ushered ten screaming children into a van, where I then spent the next two hours being bumped around, herding children into their various homes, etc.

It is a big ass van/bus thing. And the door kind of sticks.

At one occasion last night, I couldn’t get it open at all. I had already thought of the fact that pulling very hard wasn’t good, but nonetheless I had to keep trying to pull open this sliding door. When I got back in the van, I had constant, very bad cramping.

Of course I freaked out.

There has been no blood. I am hoping that this happened to coincidentally be the time the embryo/embryos decided to fully implant. If I had bled last night or this morning, I would not have forgiven myself.

It’s been a relief to lie down all last night, spend my full 30 minutes making out with my pessary this morning, etc.

I also vomited into the bathroom sink last night. Brushing my teeth has always carried a slight risk of The Gag Factor, but last night I vomited in the toilet. When I tried to brush again, I couldn’t make it to the toilet (next to the sink, I hasten to add), and threw up in the sink. This morning when I leaned over to rinse after brushing – no toothbrush anywhere – I started massively gagging again.

I don’t claim this is morning sickness. I have been fighting a slight vomit feeling this morning, but really only when I think about how I threw up last night.

I hope I don’t develop an aversion to maintaining healthy teeth and gums, yo. No kid wants a mom without teeth.