Guest Opinion: It’s not just about a dental implant | News, Sports, Work

A few decades ago, I was on a flight to South Carolina, sitting next to a dentist who was going to a national conference on dental procedures and new technologies. He asked me about the books I had open (Russian grammar and a conversation book), and then I reciprocated by asking about the envelope he was passing. He showed me pictures of dental implant procedures and techniques. I was initially repulsed (albeit internally) by the graphic images, but then a fascination settled in. Dental implant surgery has its roots in ancient cultures, where early forms of implants were made from materials such as shells and carved stones. In the 20th century, modern dental implants emerged with the discovery of osseointegration, pioneered by Per-Ingvar Brånemark in the 1950s when he observed titanium’s ability to bond with bone. This led to the first successful titanium dental implants in the 1960s. In the following decades, advances in surgical techniques, implant materials and digital imaging improved the procedure, enhancing durability, aesthetics and success rates.

During my intercontinental flight, I learned that dental implant techniques have seen significant advances in materials and procedural innovations aimed at improving osseointegration and reducing healing time. A key development was the introduction of immediate loading implants, allowing patients to receive a functional prosthesis immediately after implant placement, reducing the traditional waiting period for osseointegration. Research into surface treatments such as roughened or chemically enhanced implant surfaces, improved bone-implant contact and stability. Digital technology, including 3D imaging and computer-aided design/computer-aided manufacturing (CAD/CAM), has been increasingly incorporated into implant design and placement, improving accuracy and outcomes. I thanked my partner for the enlightening conversation and went about my day.

Little did I know that the flight would be vividly remembered 20 years later as it was my turn to have dental implant surgery. Let me tell you about my personal experience with dental implant surgery. Yes, I recognize that this is a process that has been done countless times in countless mouths on many continents, but this was my first.

I walked into the office knowing I was going to lose the natural tooth I had been fighting to keep since 2006. Two crowns, a failed root canal and a month of excruciating pain led me here. I went up to the desk and checked in, determined not to lose control of the moment. No sedation, no laughing gas — I wanted to feel grounded, even if the nervousness was running through me.

After the numbing injections, the dentist got to work. The drill cut through my crown with brutal precision, and then POP — the crown snapped in half. A chunk ran towards my throat, only to be caught by the hygienist’s quick suction. I sighed, watching $1,600 – barely cashed out – disappear into thin air, mixing with blood, spit and broken teeth. Then came the smell. The bone has a scent that sticks in the memory, sharp and inescapable. It drew me into the dark reality of what was happening as the dentist readied the pliers. The steel flashed as it came to my mouth, surreal and amazing, and I froze. My mind escaped to a strange corner of history: barber poles. The thought blossomed: Were red and white poles for barbers who only did hair, while the addition of blue meant they also pulled teeth? I imagined the harsh reality of an 1800s mining town, a barber with a waxed mustache wiping his hands on an apron filled with shaving cream. He dried his fingers, steadying himself to pull a miner’s rotten tooth after finishing a close shave. The absurdity of this daydream almost calmed me, but then the cold click of the pliers on my tooth brought me back to the present.

The fight has begun. My tooth was adamant, its roots sticking out fiercely. KROTOS. The dentist grunted, adjusted his grip, then pulled again. I felt the strain ripple through my jaw. Stories of neighboring teeth cracking under the strain flashed through my mind, my anxiety swelling with every effort. But finally, with a decisive pinch, it was free. Relief washed over me as the dentist examined the tooth, declaring it intact. But I knew we weren’t done. Next was the titanium screw. I had underestimated this part, assuming that extraction was the pinnacle of discomfort. The drill met my jaw and the pain shot through me like a live wire. I raised my hand, a reflex of both distress and apology. “I felt that,” I gasped. “I am very sorry!” The dentist and hygienist reassured me, kindness in their voices: “Camille, don’t apologize. Let’s make you comfortable.” More mind-numbing shots followed and I closed my eyes, lost in my thoughts.

I imagined my osteocytes—those little, hardworking cells that build and rebuild bone. But in my reverie, they weren’t just tiny workers. they were little beings with hammers and pestles in hand, eager to get to work. I imagined them staring at the cold titanium screw, a shy, new stranger to their world. At first, they hesitated, unsure of how to welcome this metallic invader. But slowly, the osteocytes warmed to it, their tiny hands moving carefully as they pressed the screw. There was an understanding between them, a kind of acceptance: Yes, you’re a foreigner, but you’re here to stay. And so, together, they began the delicate task of ossification. The titanium screw, cold and smooth, slowly warmed under the touch of the osteocytes, as if it too was coming to life. These tiny workers, no longer afraid, now formed something new: a fusion of bone and metal, a fusion of humanity and foreign material. As the osteocytes moved away, they realized the beauty of this transformation—the way they could welcome something cold into their warm, living world and make it part of the whole. The idea of ​​new beginnings felt comforting.

The drill resumed, its vibration a constant reminder of the transformation taking place within me. Pressure, smells. More pressure, more smells. The screw was locked into place with the precision of a craftsman securing a foundation. Stitches followed, then gauze, and it was done.

I left the office raw and sore, but oddly proud of myself. It wasn’t just about one tooth. It was about enduring, transforming and trusting that even pain can build something stronger. It’s been a little over a week since my surgery and the pain has finally subsided. I have had many surgeries in my life, but this is the first one where I was fully conscious and aware of the pain. C-sections have a longer recovery period, of course, and are much more invasive and cause more tissue damage than dental procedures, but doing anything near your eyes, nose, ears, brain, even if you are fully aware , it’s a little worrying. But… it is possible.

Our modern construction is a titanium screw: cold, imposing, a foreign object implanted into the formerly coherent fabric of society that has had generations of warmth amid developments and changes. No healthy self-respecting jawbone would accept being drilled, drilled, and treated like a nail in a cold metal wall. But. Society is not a healthy jaw. The abscesses we have developed are at risk of sepsis if we do not intervene and fast.

We can’t expect it to always be the way it was. Healthy, open conversations will roughen the site where we’ll build what’s to come. Osteocytes we can be, as we welcome new paradigms and constructs to build something better, something stronger. Ossification of bones takes about 90 days, so in turn, don’t expect that changing a calendar, a new political landscape, or moving residence or career will instantly cure all of society’s ills. It takes work and dedication from each person to put the pieces together, to complete.

As another calendar year closes, I wish the entire community the following:

Confidence.

Understanding.

Community.

Love.

Let’s make it together.

Camille Heckmann writes about her observations on the human condition. You can find her on Substack: @camilleheckmann.