Dental Adventures

Morocco didn't seem like a great place to have dental problems. I was eating breakfast in Rabat, some bread and cheese and a yogurt drink, when one tooth started hurting intensely. It felt like a needle had been stealthy inserted below the gum line, and then jabbed into the base of my tooth. Or alternately, like flavor molecules were turned into thorn clusters that attacked in the crevices of my teeth and gums.

I wasn't surprised since I'd been having issues with this tooth, or the inflamed gums around it to be more specific, for awhile. I'd had it cleaned out in Beijing and Bangkok and things had been good for awhile.

It's not a fun part of travel, but shit goes wrong with bodies and it's gotta be dealt with, at least after you ignore it for as long as possible.

The pain in my tooth was so intense that morning in Morocco that I couldn't ignore it any more. Lunch, the Big Tasty from McDonald's, didn't cause as much pain when the juices and chemicals and mush attacked my tooth, but it was still bad. And for the record, I was only eating McDonald's because it was Ramadan and there weren't a whole lot of choices for eating. The flavor powder from the chips I tried eating was infinitely worse, like eating acid.

I cut my visit to Africa short by a couple days and got the train up to Tanger where I had planned on staying for the night but decided to get straight on the boat back to Spain once I was en route.

After a long wait for the bus to Malaga, a miserable night on a hostel couch, an abortive attempt to hitchhike to Madrid, I finally got into the capital late at night. My tooth wasn't hurting so much when I drank water, but I determined to get it dealt with. In the meantime I avoided eating until I was absolutely starving and chewed only on my right side, something I had done for quite a long time when I was having problems earlier on the trip. Then I got self-conscious about having a really strong jaw on only one side and looking weird, so I balanced it out when the lack of pain allowed it.

The next day I got a free x-ray and prescription for amoxicilin at one clinic, but no cleaning since the regular dentist was on vacation. It made me feel better, but not good enough. The next day I went into another clinic. The dentist there wound up mercifully anesthetizing me before she scraped the hell out of the tooth below the swollen gums and then surprisingly pulled out a pair of short pointed scissors and cut off a shitload of the offending tissue.

I wasn't so sure that was such a good idea, but I'm not the dentist. The shape of the gums looked normal, but that's not to say it would feel or function normally. I figured I'd be bleeding for days, but it sealed up quickly.

Four days later, so far so good. I just wish I got to keep some chunks of gum as a souvenir like I got to keep my cracked and shattered wisdom teeth when they came out.

And if shit does wind up going wrong, well, I'll be stuck on a ship for a week, half the world away from the dentist that is responsible, and then in America with no insurance or money. No big deal.