My path to my implant started when I was nine and gave a big kiss to the bottom of a swimming pool. (Who would have thought that one could get to the bottom of a nine-foot pool so quickly?) Many years later, my dentist replaced my two crowns. I immediately developed gum problems. A new dentist realized that my problem was likely that the new crowns were a steel base to which my gums were reacting. Several thousand dollars later, I had two new new crowns with gold bases. A year later, I was shopping for shoes for my young son and a mouth guard for me. The boy melted down and I left the store without a mouth guard. Of course the next morning I caught an elbow in one of those crowns playing basketball and broke the tooth off in the root.
At the time, early '90s, implants were pretty new. Even though I had dental insurance, it didn't pay for them. However, it seemed worth it to avoid involving yet another tooth with a bridge. The oral surgeon dug out the remaining bit of root and put a bit of donor bone in place. I still remember his assistant wielding a club to knock that piece of bone in place. She could give Barry Bonds a run for his money in a home run derby. I'm pretty sure she gave me a concussion, but the bone got in where it needed to be.
Many months later, close to a year, my dentist put the tooth on the piece of titanium that had been placed in the donor bone. He said he wanted to use a weak bonding agent just in case the tooth needed to be taken off. Well, that night it came off when I flossed it. The stronger glue that he put on the next morning has held for two-plus decades, so I guess it works.