Three cheers for fake teeth and longterm friendship

Hiding behind chocolate mold

News flash: For the first time in as long as I can remember, I am able to chew on both sides of my mouth.

It was a big day when Dr. Badri Debian, of Holyoke Dental Associates, gave me my newest bridge a couple of weeks ago. For a while he had said I didn't need it because I still had enough teeth on my upper right to be able to chew on that side. It didn't seem so to me. I chewed so much on my left side that I wore down the bottom teeth and needed a bridge. But when I lost my thirteenth tooth last month on my right upper, he decided it was time.

I never knew that I would be spending so much time thinking about teeth, or lack thereof.

Friends asked how the bridge was glued in. I have a tooth in front, but not in back. For some reason this sounded funny, and we started cracking up.

So it turns out that I don't have a traditional bridge, which would be a fake tooth connected to two existing teeth.

A bridge supported by a tooth on one side is a Cantilever bridge, and that is what I have.

Here is another word that is new to me: a pontic. That is the technical term, or euphemism, for a fake tooth.  

I keep forgetting that I can use my right side now, so I still favor my left. It's not perfect, because I'm missing a bottom molar, so I don't have a great connection. 

Dr. Debian has my back. He gives me a good discount and is in my opinion, a mensch. But since I don't have dental insurance because dental insurance stinks for people in my situation, it might be good for the bite in my mouth but it takes a bite out of my bank account.

Anne with cacao pod

I'm behind on other news. My Vassar classmate Anne Outwater and I had an interesting visit to Taza Chocolate Factory, in Somerville. It was a busy couple of days. 

I crammed a lot in on that Wednesday, but when a friend (Anne) who lives in Tanzania says she is going to be in Boston and would like to visit a chocolate factory run by a fellow Vassar graduate, and it is the same day that you need to be at Dana-Farber at 4, and you have already promised to sub in a tennis group at 9 in the morning, what are you going to do except try to do it all?

Somehow it worked out. Getting there was crazy, though. As I neared my destination, I was thwarted by blocked-off streets. 

I later learned that it was because of the large public transit expansion affecting Union Square in Somerville. An employee from the chocolate factory talked me in. I almost gave up. But I got there on time for a little introduction and tour that included tasting a lot of stone ground dark chocolate of various textures and tastes. We learned that the higher the cacao levels, the more health benefits there are. Unfortunately I like milk chocolate better. But I'm learning to like dark chocolate.

I took a selfie with Anne but erased it because I had a big red mark on my nose, resulting from a zapping, or cryosurgery, on a precancerous spot. I conveniently displayed a mold by holding it over my nose. 

Afterwards we got in my car and went to Dana-Farber so she could sit with me while I got my blood treated. It was the only other time we would have together. Quite the difference from when we rode bikes around Prince Edward Island together and she placed a blue shield around us so that the dogs would not get us. 

Anne does not drive in Tanzania. I think I should have told her to close her eyes on the drive through Boston traffic. 

Anne has a Ph.D. in nursing and has an impressive job and title: Head of Department of Community Health Nursing at Muhimbili University of Health and Allied Sciences in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. Before that, she was a medical officer in the peace corps. The nurses were impressed with her! She was also impressed by the nurses and interested in what they were doing. She got a quick lesson in ECP, or extracorporeal photopheresis for graft vs. host of the skin.

My compadres Larry and Lisa were also there. The three of us always come at 4 p.m. every other Wednesday. I don't know the name of the other man who is always there. Sometimes he is behind a screen. Due to traffic, we got there last, but I finished before Larry and Lisa, because they each use just one arm. I told Anne how it came about that I use two arms, one for drawing and the other for simultaneously returning. It was because one day Mark, my nurse for the day, came up and asked if I wanted to use two arms, and before I had a chance to balk, he put the second needle in.

Depending on where the nurse places the needle, I can sometimes use my right arm. But it was at an awkward place, so I couldn't. It was good that Anne was there to talk to. She was impressed with the nurses. When the procedure was finished, Mark walked Anne out to show her where to get the T. 

It was also a good thing I was going to Margaret and Nick's, because I was too tired to drive home.

My construction obstacles persisted, though. I have been to their house many times but got confused when getting off at the exit that I usually take off Route 128/95.  It looked different. I ended up where I didn't want to be and then had to circle around.

Margaret said the changes were due to something called the Add a Lane project. I was glad to hear I wasn't making it up and there was a reason for my confusion.

I had hoped that one of the doctors at ECP could remove the stitches from the Mohs surgery on a squamous cell cancer on my right temple. A doctor came over prepared to do it, but when he saw that it was running stitches, he said he couldn't; you need finer scissors and a better light. He asked Melissa to call ahead to the Faulkner Hospital Mohs Surgery Center to see if they could take me the next morning. He called it the Pregame. He said, in the meantime, to just go in the morning and assume they would see me. She texted me to ask if I could get there at 10:45. I was already on my way. Yay team!

The next day I drove home in the pouring rain. I went straight to a hair appointment that I had in Northampton. I don't have any construction-related explanations for getting there at the wrong time, 3 instead of 2. Getting out of my car, I couldn't open my umbrella. Getting soaked, I fumbled for my credit card to use in the meter. I dropped the card in the rain. I couldn't find it anywhere, so I thought maybe it was in my car. But I canceled the card anyway. This is a pain because a lot of things are attached to it.

The next day, I got a call from a man who said he found my card. He said he looked me up and found me via my website. He said he wanted me to know that he was a veteran and he wouldn't have tried to use the card. I thanked him profusely and said I had already canceled it. But it was nice to know that such a person existed.

Meanwhile, someone had gotten a hold of the number for my LL Bean card and put more than $2,000 in fake charges on it. The credit card company didn't catch it. I believe they should have. After I called, they removed all but one small charge. I told them it was also a fake charge. They said no problem, they would not charge me interest while they looked into it. They charged me interest and a late fee. I called and said to take it off. They said they would take it off and look into why there was a stray $58 charge on it...with interest. I said OK.

When I tried to use the card, it was rejected. I called to try to find out why. Of course as most people know, it is bad for your health to try to get through to a real person at a credit card company. You cannot just press zero. I yelled into the phone, agent, agent, agent. When I finally got a person, they said it was locked because I hadn't paid them the $58 even though it was in dispute.

They don't care, but I said that as soon it is resolved and I use my coupons, I'm going to cancel the card.

Sorry for the rant.

Spot is gone; pain and itching are on

Post-surgical fashion statement

Today I am focusing my investigative journalism efforts on what to do if your stitches are itchy.

The fact that the itchiness is a sign of healing does not make it easier to stand. On Wednesday and Thursday after my Mohs surgery, pain was my biggest problem. Now I have less pain although still some at the area on my ankle where the surgeon removed the squamous cell cancer and put on a skin graft to fill the hole in. But the area on my stomach where they took the skin for the graft is itching like CRAZY. Now I understand why they put an ice pack in with the materials needed to change the dressing. The ice pack helps somewhat. I took some Benadryl last night and might take some more.

The ice pack fit into my sweatshirt pocket. I wore it in there for a while because it is right over the spot. Then it lost its cold and I put it in the freezer to see if it would reactivate, but I'm not sure it will work. Meanwhile I have taken a larger freezer pack and tied it around my waist with my scarf. It is hard to concentrate on anything else.

The fashion statement might equal the one I made when wearing one of David's Teva sandals home because my boot didn't fit over the bandage on my ankle. Diane lent me a pair of socks because my feet were cold in the ones I had brought and also because it was hard to fit mine over the bandage. Joe came home to have pizza with me last night, make dinner tonight and help take care of Maddie. It takes a village.

When the nurse at the Mohs center at Faulkner Hospital took my blood pressure on Wednesday, it was 170-something over 90-something. She said it might be a good idea for me to take something. I agreed it was as good a time as any for me to take one of the Ativan I had brought. So while they were getting the room ready, that is what I did.

I have had at least 10 of these surgeries and never got so anxious. It was the thing about the larger size and the graft.

It took a while for them to draw their shapes on me: one on the ankle, one on my stomach, and one on my left hand. Dr. Schmults, who is director of the Mohs Center and who is really nice, said the one on my left hand is too small to treat. She recommended that I treat that and the backs of both of my hands with Effudex, a chemotherapy cream, saying the only way for it to work is to wrap my hands in Saran wrap after I put the cream on, every night for three weeks.

Since I have mentioned this frequently lately, I probably should repeat what Mohs surgery is all about. According to the definition on the Faulkner Hospital website: Mohs surgery, a form of skin cancer removal in which the borders are examined by the surgeon microscopically while the patient waits, boasts a remarkable 99% cure rate for most basal and squamous cell skin cancers as well as a high cure rate for other rare forms of skin cancer.  

A doctor, Frederick Mohs, developed it in the 1930s. If the margins are not clear upon first examination, they take a little more, examine again, and so on until it is all gone. I asked once and learned that sometimes it can take quite a few times to get it all. Only once did I need a second pass. This one came off, as did all but one, on the first try.

During the prep work, I talked to one of the residents. He was impressed by my four bone marrow transplants. They always ask, four? We talked about it some more while he was outlining the spot for the graft. Dr. Schmults suggested a little change in the shape. I had an odd feeling of being the material for a coloring project. I asked if he could still concentrate while I talked, and he said yes, he could. Classical music filtered in while they worked. My appointment was at 1 and I was done at about 5. Some of this was waiting, some was drawing on me, some was getting numbed up with a lot of needles, and some was the actual procedure.

Diane picked me up. I had a nice dinner with her and David and enjoyed what Diane knew would be the best medicine for me, a rich piece of chocolate cake.

On my drive in, I had posted on Facebook about feeling anxious. I appreciated the support that people gave me. As we all know, FB has its downsides, but it is great when you need a virtual helping hand. It was also helpful when, at 1:38 a.m., I wrote that the Tylenol and codeine that Dr. Schmults had prescribed wasn't working. The pain was bringing tears to my eyes. I needed to take an oxycodone, but I didn't want to wake my sister to get something for me to eat and I didn't know if the clementine and potato chips I had in my room were adequate. Somebody is always up. My friend Nan Imbesi replied that my snack should be substantial enough. So I had my snack and my medicine and drifted back to sleep.

I haven't complained about my drivers recently. That's because I have had some good luck lately. I had the same nice driver in and back. When I mentioned to him, as I have to some others, that many of the other drivers have been, um, less than polite, he said he had heard a lot of complaints. We agreed that it doesn't make too much sense because it doesn't take much to be nice, especially when you are driving people to medical appointments.

I go back Wednesday to get the stitches removed. That will be a relief.