My speech is not slurred as though I might be stroking out but it has altered some and I hope you can understand me clearly. To be frank, I broke my lower denture the other day. It is not much consolation but I did break it in the most pleasant way, if such can be said. I was biting down on a small piece of peanut cluster. I happened so suddenly. The chocolate had barely warmed my tastebuds when there was a muted crash inside my mouth. And it did alter my speech some so I am not as readily understood. All I did was, well the taste of chocolate had only been realized when I bit down on this peanut and it happened. It broke in two pieces. It was an oblique break, a smooth horizontal job you wonder how such a thing could happen. For a moment I was mystified, just stared looking at the awful thing I had done. And I had only bit into that peanut cluster; it was a waste of both peanuts and chocolate. My teeth problems go way back. I first got dentures when I was thirty-two years old but it started when I was seventeen. Now hear me, the inner workings of a dentist may be such you do not want to hear more of this woeful tale. If that be the cis I understand why you do not want to read further. When I was seventeen I joined the Army, went through the appropriate training in order to assist the president in stopping communism in a far off country. But during that training and because I had never been to a dentist before, I got to go visit one. He told me I had numerous spots on several teeth that needed drilling out which he proceeded to do and fill with temporally fillings. And because I was on orders to ship out he suggested at my next duty station to tell them these temporizes need to be replaced with permanent filling. With a numb mouth I mumbled “will do.” My next duty station was this far off country where I found the oncoming horde had already been stopped but the Army didn’t understand or care that I needed permanent fillings in my teeth. So for the next several years those temporary fillings loosened, fell out and the holes got bigger, rotted and the teeth started breaking apart and falling out in small chucks. When I had twelve teeth left a dentist pulled them all and slapped in a set of dentures over a mouth full of stitches he had put into sore gums. That was in 1965. I used those new dentures for eighteen years. But in 1983 I got a brand new set of dentures and that’s the ones I broke a few days ago. So here I am trying to make a decision. Do I repair them, or go without. I have already been told a new lower plate could not be made that will fit. But losing one plate really complicates your eating pleasure and what you can eat. Goodbye steaks, goodbye crunchy fried chicken, goodbye almost everything solid. “What would you like for supper, dear?” “Oh, I’ll just have a cup of coffee and some of that chicken noodle soup, Sweetie.”
Poor you Bill, what a dilemma I would go to the dentist and take advice on it, maybe things have improved now and they can be of help
"It was an oblique break, a smooth horizontal job you wonder how such a thing could happen." @Bill Boggs , if it is a smooth break you might be able to fix it with Super Glue. I know somebody who did that and they lasted for years and years.
I thought of that, looked and did find both superglue and a small denture repair kit but all were dried up. I thought maybe a lab could do a better job for a small fee.
When you grow old with your own teeth or some manufactured for you, and suddenly they are removed, or taken away from you, most can't sppeek with the clarity they once did, a person generally speaks softer without teeth, and his speech is not as pronounced. Perhaps I used slurred speech inappropriately.
Well, after the surprise wore off, i finally relaised almost everthing is replaceable. Your mind works faster.
My Dad's kid brother, my Uncle Jim, whom I visited in Wisconsin in 1993, revealed he had ALL his teeth, never once been to a dentist by age 80, never had a cavity in a tooth! Most remarkable, and unheard-of, at least in our family. My Dad's teeth were so-so, had a frontal partial when I was a teen, my Mother's far worse. Mine? I have 29 left of 32. Would have been less had I submitted to the quackery of an oral surgeon who convinced my mother & I that I had a tumor in my upper jawbone. My dad put an end to that proposal very quickly. Our old family dentist pulled the affected tooth, everything healed up naturally. Frank
I don't think we're made right Bill - especially the teeth department We should grow teeth that are permanent and need no work whatsoever