Ten years after moving to Auckland, I have finally waved goodbye to my motorway phobia having driven the 60 kms to Middlemore Hospital and back today. On the way home I drove with furious confidence and ease because I was so disappointed, angry, frustrated and a bit heartbroken. 

I was all geared up for disappointment because more than half the time that is how my implant saga has transpired. There have been delays and nothingburger appointments because things weren’t ready. Sometimes it has been my fault. My tissue grew over the healing abutments for example. I am a very tricky customer with bad trismus and a tendency to bite my own numb tissue. I’m grateful to the only clinician in town who can deal with me. 

Incidentally, I found out this time why he had gone AWOL in the winter. He had good reason. 

But I had hoped my partial metal denture for my top teeth would be ready today. In fact, before he found out that my teeth weren’t ready, he said the dribbling and spitting would ease once I had upper teeth. He couldn’t adjust the bottom prosthesis – which is temporary and covered in acrylic – until the upper teeth were in and we saw how they worked. 

He then turned to his bench behind the chair and I heard him muttering something like, “They don’t like labelling these plates or bases,” before he turned off my overhead light and said he’d be away for a few minutes. 

He obviously went to the lab and came back with a whole heap of spin. Obviously there had been a problem with the teeth but he didn’t say that directly. He said the good news was that I’d tolerated the bottom implant-anchored prosthesis well – he didn’t tell me what the bad news was – just indicated clumsily that the upper teeth were under construction. (There had been a set made last year but they were lost in the system so this is the second time I’ve endured this disappointment. I didn’t mind so much last time because I was getting used to the prosthesis.)

I was gobsmacked and my brain was churning but the words wouldn’t come out. Earlier he had said how pleased I must be with the straightened mouth. I said yes, I look quite good with my mouth closed but sometimes I have to speak. 

The straightened mouth is a huge achievement for him and the surgeon – quite amazing – but for the patient it is almost meaningless if speech and eating and dribbling are worse than they’ve ever been. And my appearance with hardly any top teeth is awful when I open my mouth!

He did fix one problem that had been troubling me. I’d been biting on my right cheek – he filed a tooth down a bit but that took about 5 minutes. (Worth doing I have to admit – but 120 kms worth?)

He said the coordinator would get in touch with me but yeah – I know what that usually means. I’m going to have to do something brave. Ask his coordinator to arrange a phone conversation between him and me or maybe better still, ask my son to ring him. 

The former would be a sensible thing to do but although I’m a tough girl, I HATE doing that sort of thing. You just don’t ring your clinician in the public system.

Anyway, I really need to sort this out or I’ll lose all trust in my part of the hospital dental system and I really don’t want that to happen. The system is stretched, especially the prosthetic lab. But they have to work the best they can with what they’ve got and I don’t think that has happened for me.

I am a patient advocate in my way and I need to advocate for myself to help smooth the path for others.