Followers of the Uxbridge English Dictionary might posit that this blog refers to the rustic, Spanish Christmas I’ve just enjoyed: castanets instead of crackers, morcilla rather than mince pies and paella replacing parsnips and turkey. An enticing tableau but sadly not an accurate one.
I love discovering new words but spicule is one I’d rather not have incorporated into my vocabulary: at least not in this context. It transpires that when bone knits and heals (and sometimes when it’s just hanging around doing general bony type stuff) instead of forming smoothly, small needle-like protuberances can spring up. Apparently this is quite usual, especially following tooth extractions: however, they’re not much fun as they fight their way through your gums..
A couple of weeks after losing my molars, just as the prospect of eating was becoming less traumatic, I noticed a small, painful bump on my upper front gum. Anxious that all wasn’t quite well and that the bisphosphonate treatment shouldn’t be delayed any longer, I referred myself back to the special dentistry department at the hospital. They (kindly?) split open the gum and filed down aforesaid spicule with a scary piece of kit: halfway between a carpentry plane and an emery board.
Painful and annoying but good to go one would now assume. Wrong on so many fronts. The week before Christmas found me with three more of the blighters on the front of my gum and a couple on the inside of it. Quick trip to my own dentist and 21st December had me back in the chair being sliced, filed and stitched.
Christmas was mainly liquid!
Dissolvable stitches (which don’t do what they say on the tin) have just been removed so hopefully there’s nothing on the dental front to stop the introduction of those good old bisphosphonates for my bones.
So, five months from diagnosis and following two and a half months of dental treatments, B-Day (that’s for bisphosphonates not Birthday) hopefully hoves into view. We’ll know a bit more when we get the results from the latest round of scans (MRI, bloods & CT) at next Monday’s oncology appointment.
Here’s hoping and we’ll keep you posted.
In the meantime, here’s another quasi-cancer-related UED definition: lymph (v) to walk with a lisp. Now if that doesn’t sum up the side-effects to date, I don’t know what does!