September 20, 2012 4 Comments
Nothing opens the appetite like exhaustion. A combination of physical and emotional fatigue seem to work best. Today I ate a bagel with cream cheese and salmon, 2 hours after I had eaten breakfast and my stomach felt like all I had done was chew a couple of sticks of gum. If anything it had made me hungrier. I moved on to the free cookie I had received when I had collected 10 loyalty stamps from the ice cream shop. Nothing. I polished off a packet of nuts and raisins. And it went on.
I have a lot of guilt every time I eat. Not because of my weight (producing milk for two babies means you can eat anything and not gain so much as a gram of fat) but because of my teeth.
I went to see my dentist, whom I love. He sat me down on his green chair, put the paper bib on, took a deep breath and asked me to give it to him straight.
“What have you been eating?” There’s an edge to his voice.
“I’ve been snacking.” I confess, sharp intake of breath but he remains calm.
“I’ve been eating sweets.” I continue.
“Haribo?” He almost whispers it. My dentist equates eating Haribo to crack cocaine.
“God no!” I exclaim. “No, shortbread biscuits, cakes things like that.”
He relaxes and has a look. He tells me it’s not that bad but that he is prescribing me Duraphat 5000 ppm as a prophylactic. It’s got 5x the amount of fluoride of regular toothpaste and should tide me through this turbulent period.
My obstetrician is similarly concerned about prophylactics. What am I using for ‘protection’ he asks without a hint of irony at my 6-week check up before giving me a prescription for the pill. Which let’s face it, is like giving a Bedouin a life boat in case the desert floods. Read more of this post