A trip to the dentist

We’ve had our first visitors over the past week, first our mothers and then my sister, her husband and my niece – who’s nearly three. It was great to spend time with our relatives and a relief that they all think we live in a nice apartment in a beautiful town.

The visits also coincided with my first health emergency – a infected tooth – and a bit of a step forward with me speaking French.

The tooth was unfortunate. I generally have good teeth, but this tooth has been a problem for two or three years. I have had root canal work done twice and a number of broken fillings and temporary crowns. It has cost me an arm and a leg in dental bills.

The latest episode of the saga started with some pain last Tuesday and a lump of tooth falling off that evening. The next day I felt ghastly and suspected I had an infection. Because of the immunosuppressant medication I am taking for my Crohn’s, I needed to get it looked at.

After consulting with the local pharmacy and the emergency department at the local clinic, I understood that it would be best to see a généraliste. So I went to my doctor to make an appointment for that afternoon.

I saw another doctor in the practice (my doctor was on holiday) and he was very helpful. He listened to my slow and painful French and even had a look in my mouth before accepting that he wasn’t a dentist. I left with a prescription for antibiotics and the telephone number of his dentist.

My partner kindly phoned the dentist at 8.30 on Thursday morning and explained my situation. My French is not good enough to manage phone calls yet. He was happy I was on antibiotics and arranged an appointment for Monday.

The antibiotics quickly kicked in and, after 4 doses, I was feeling a little better by the time my sister’s family arrived on Thursday evening. I’d also been prescribed dispersible tablets which seemed a lot more gentle on my digestive system, so I was able to enjoy the weekend.

Forty-five minutes after waving goodbye to our visitors on Monday afternoon, I was at the dentists, trying to explain the history of my tooth and trying to understand what the dentist was saying to me. It was hard work but ultimately successful.

So, I have a chronic infection at the end of the root. This didn’t surprise either of us because of my immunosuppressive treatment. The dentist said he didn’t want to do anything and wanted to wait to see what happened in the next 3-4 weeks.

I left with another appointment next month, an instruction to phone for an emergency appointment if things deteriorate and I paid nothing. Dentistry in France seems to be part of the health care system.

Interestingly, at the end of a week when I spoke lots of English to people other than my partner, my French has improved quite a bit. I’ve done no study this week and when I felt poorly the last thing I wanted to do was to speak French.

I remembered on Tuesday night and through Wednesday that it is quite scary being ill in another country, but I got the treatment I needed and am now feeling better. I had to make myself understood in French and I did. It is good to know that my survival instinct is in good working order.