My Dentist Husband Treated My Jaw Pain For 7 Years. Today, Another Doctor Found What He Really Put Inside Me. Why Would He Do This?

The Beginning of the End

I never thought I’d be sitting in a police station at 62 years old watching my husband of 38 years being led away in handcuffs. But here I was, my hands still trembling as I signed statement after statement, each signature feeling like I was signing away the life I thought I knew.

Let me start from the beginning because even now, months later, I still can’t quite believe how blind I was. My name is Margaret and for the past 7 years, I’d been living with chronic tooth pain.

It wasn’t constant. It would flare up for a few weeks then subside, only to return again. My gums bled when I brushed my teeth, and I had persistent headaches.

Some days the left side of my face felt swollen and tender. I mentioned it to my husband Robert countless times. He’s been a dentist for over 40 years, one of the most respected in our city.

“It’s probably just inflammation,”

he’d say, barely looking up from his newspaper.

“You’re getting older, Margaret. Our bodies don’t heal like they used to. I’ll prescribe you something for the pain.”

And he did. He gave me pills for inflammation, antibiotics when it got really bad, and pain medication that made me drowsy.

“Just give it time,”

he’d always say.

“These things take time to heal.”

I trusted him. Why wouldn’t I? He was my husband, the father of our two grown children, and a medical professional.

When you’ve been married for nearly four decades, you don’t question your spouse’s expertise in their own field. But 7 years is a long time to be in pain.

A Sudden Turn of Events

The turning point came last month completely by accident. Robert had gone to a dental conference in Chicago for 3 days of continuing education credits and networking, he’d said.

I was alone in the house when the pain flared up again, worse than ever. My entire jaw throbbed and I could barely open my mouth to eat.

I looked in the mirror and saw that the left side of my face was visibly swollen. I called Robert’s cell phone, but there was no answer.

I tried three more times over the next 2 hours, but nothing. I was getting desperate because the pain medication he’d given me wasn’t touching this level of discomfort.

That’s when I remembered my friend Linda had been raving about her new dentist for months, Dr. Rachel Chen.

“She’s amazing, Margaret. Really takes time to listen to you,”

she told me at our book club.

“Not like these old school dentists who just want to rush you out the door.”

I found Dr. Chen’s number online. Her office was only 20 minutes away in a newer medical building I’d driven past a hundred times.

When I called explaining my situation, the receptionist heard the pain in my voice.

“We can squeeze you in at 4:30 today if you can make it,”

she said.

I almost said no. Robert wouldn’t like me seeing another dentist, as he’d always insisted on handling all my dental care himself even after he’d retired from regular practice 5 years ago.

“Why would you waste money going to someone else when you’re married to a dentist?”

he’d laugh whenever I suggested a checkup elsewhere. But the pain was unbearable, so I drove to Dr. Chen’s office.

The Ghostly Shape on the Screen

Dr. Rachel Chen was younger than I expected, probably in her mid-40s, with kind eyes and a gentle demeanor that immediately put me at ease. She listened carefully as I described my symptoms, typing notes into her computer.

“7 years of intermittent pain and inflammation,”

she repeated, her brow furrowing.

“And your regular dentist hasn’t done any imaging?”

“My husband is a dentist,”

I explained.

“He’s been treating me at home. He says it’s just age related inflammation.”

Something flickered across her face; concern maybe.

“I see. Well, let’s take a look, shall we? I’d like to do a full set of X-rays if that’s all right with you.”

20 minutes later I was back in her office. Dr. Chen was staring at her computer screen, her expression grave.

She’d been quiet for too long.

“Mrs. Bennett,”

she said finally, turning to face me.

“I need to ask you something and I need you to be completely honest with me. Who performed dental work on your lower left quadrant? Specifically, who placed this implant?”

“Implant?”

I blinked at her, confused.

“I don’t have any implants.”

Her eyes widened slightly.

“You… You don’t know about the implant?”

“What implant? I’ve never had an implant placed. I’ve never even discussed getting implants with anyone.”

Dr. Chen’s hands gripped the armrests of her chair. She swiveled her monitor so I could see the X-ray images.

“Mrs. Bennett, there is absolutely an implant in your lower left jaw. Right here,”

she pointed to a ghostly white shape on the screen.

“But there’s a serious problem. This implant appears to be a very poor quality and it’s been placed incorrectly. See here? The surrounding bone structure is severely compromised. There’s significant infection, bone loss, and what looks like tissue necrosis.”

The room spun slightly. I don’t understand how I could have an implant and not know about it.

“When was the last time you had any dental procedure done?”

she asked. I thought back to about 7 years ago when I had my wisdom teeth removed, all four of them. My husband did the procedure at his practice.

Dr. Chen’s face went pale.

“Your husband removed your wisdom teeth 7 years ago?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Mrs. Bennett, I need you to listen to me very carefully.”

A Life-Threatening Sabotage

She rolled her chair closer to mine.

“This implant has been in your jaw for years. I’d estimate at least 5 to 7 years based on the bone integration pattern. Someone placed this during a surgical procedure.”

“If you only had your wisdom teeth removed in that time frame and your husband performed that surgery…”

The implication hung in the air between us.

“No,”

I whispered.

“No, that’s not possible. Why would he?”

“I don’t know why,”

Dr. Chen interrupted gently.

“But I know what I’m seeing on these X-rays. This implant is not just poorly made. It appears to be deliberately substandard. It’s causing a chronic infection that’s been destroying your bone tissue. If it’s not removed immediately, the infection could spread to your bloodstream. It could be life-threatening.”

I couldn’t breathe. My vision narrowed to tunnel vision.

Seven years of pain. Seven years of my husband telling me it was nothing, just inflammation, just my age, just something to manage with pills.

“Mrs. Bennett?”

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