(Originally written in September 2017)
For the most part, I have been in dining-out seclusion for almost five months. There were two occasions when I ate in a restaurant, and in each of them it was but several mouthfuls. The one time was not so bad; it was a mere cupful of etoufee. The other time, it was a chicken wing. I ate gingerly both times, feeling extremely self-conscious.
The reason for my sabbatical from public dining? I was wearing in my mouth a cumbersome dental retainer whose role was to simulate upper front teeth. I had dental implant surgery back in April and was in the process of allowing them to heal properly before getting a new bridge attached to them. Yesterday, the ordeal was ended.
When I was told my bridge had arrived two days ago, I felt elation–accompanied by doubt. Suppose it didn’t fit? After all, I’d been told more than once that my ‘bite’ was a bit problematic and that fashioning a bridge to accommodate it and still look natural could be a challenge. (Those exact words weren’t said but ….) I kept imagining being told ‘I’m sorry Mr. Pryer but I don’t think this is going to work’ and the bridge would have to be returned, either for alterations–if that was an option–or a new one would have to be cast. Such a scenario would most likely add another three to four weeks delay to my dental angst.
In actually, the ‘installation’ could not have been better. The fit was a good one. Yes, there were some adjustments made–my bottom teeth had to be filed down some; likewise for the bridge itself–but the cosmetics were excellent. Very natural looking. What a relief!
Right on cue, I have booked two dates to dine out this weekend. And why not? I gotta new grin.