I recently read the novel Never Flinch by Stephen King. There’s a character who undergoes an extraction of a molar for more or less the same reason I’m about to. I found this both amusing but also oddly comforting. (Although, since the character in question was the serial killer the detective protagonist was trying to hunt down, it was maybe a little disconcerting, too.)

In the immediate aftermath of my MDS diagnosis, stress levels were very high for my wife and me. I’m sure nearly anyone who has had to process the shock of a catastrophic diagnosis has felt the same way. In my case, my brain decided that it would deal with this, in part, by clenching and grinding my teeth while I was sleeping. This is not a good thing to do.

I’ve been fortunate throughout my life to have good teeth. I had never had a cavity, hadn’t needed braces as a kid, and in general had never had any dental-related issues whatever. My luck, as with so many things over the last couple of years, ran out.

Long story short, I cracked one of my molars. I already had some pain from the clenching/grinding itself, so I didn’t realize I’d cracked it initially. By the time I did, my first-ever cavity had formed inside the crack and essentially hollowed out half of the tooth until one side broke off.

The tooth itself would need to be extracted, but since it wasn’t causing me any pain and I’d largely gotten a handle on the clenching/grinding issue, it wasn’t a high priority–and not an emergency in any case. I had bigger fish to fry (like dealing with my anemia).

Well, the time for dealing with it has arrived. With the transplant looming, I have to undergo several tests to check for potential areas where complications could arise. One of these is clearance from my dentist. The initial stage of the Stem Cell Transplant consists of intense chemo which, in essence, destroys my existing bone marrow to make room for the new marrow to supplant it. This will include wiping out my immune system. As a result, for at least a few months, I will have to work very hard to avoid any kinds of infection–a common source of which are dental issues. The upshot of all of that is that this tooth, though it still isn’t bothering me or causing me any problems right now, has got to go.

The appointment for my dental clearance a couple of weeks ago went well, but to complete it, I was referred to an oral surgeon to have the tooth extracted, which was entirely expected.

Yesterday, I met with the surgeon. He and his staff were fantastic, and his nurse just happened to have worked in oncology for fifteen years, so she was very familiar with what I was explaining about my situation. They all managed to go a long way toward making me feel much more comfortable with the surgery–the first dental work I have ever needed.

I have to admit, there’s a tiny part of me that’s a little sad to be losing a tooth after a lifetime of having all my teeth–even sans fillings! That’s ludicrous of course, considering everything else I’m currently dealing with. I’ve made peace with it though, and some time in a year or so, after the transplant is behind me, I hope to have the tooth replaced with an implant. For now, though, the focus is on next week, when the damned thing will finally be yanked out.

In the end, this is a small step in my SCT journey. I know it’ll be much less terrible than my brain keeps telling me it’ll be. Maybe if I tell myself “Never flinch”…