I've seen the same Dentist for most of my life but yesterday; I went to New Dentist here in Nashville. I felt like I was cheating but not the guilty eating a cupcake when I should be eating asparagus kind of cheating. More like the turning left without signaling in front of a car with just paint to spare kind of cheating. Dangerous might die scary not exciting story to tell my friends one day scary.
Old Dentist was awesome. Is still awesome. If I could get my butt back on a plane to California, he'd fit me in regardless of the day or time. But $700+ for a ticket is too much to pay to get a cleaning even from the most awesome dentist ever. So, because I’m cheap, I sat in a waiting room listening to the desk staff as they chattered away in insurance lingo like it’s a language I never learned. Listening as the phone rings and they young and bouncy one tells the person calling to cancel to "Bless your heart and feel better." In the background, behind the noise of the radio, come the sound of drills and that unmistakable sound-sucking machine that I don't know the name of. I don't thing it has a name other than awful sucking machine that makes everything sound like a dying swamp monster. They were running twenty-three minutes late. I was considering running. I should have listened to my instincts. The longer I sat there, the more aware I am of the imperfections in the space; the paint anomalies and scuff marks that line the baseboards, the cracks in the floor. And the more I heard about random patient’s personal dental history. Everyone had ‘treatment plans.’ My Old Dentist never had a ‘treatment plan.’ He just did what needed doing himself. I actively considered getting up, what it would take for me to walk out of the office – both physically and financially. It was then that the bouncy one came out to get me and brought me to Sad Faced but Cheery Dental Hygienist. She apologized for the delay, as I assumed the position on the chair. The position where my body is supposed to be relaxed and comfortably supported within the curves of the chair but my muscles have actually tightened themselves to the point where I’m actually floating on a river of tension above the chair. Sad Faced but Cheery Dental Hygienist told me they usually take x-rays at the first appointment and asked if I want x-rays. Unsure, I agree because I’m not a dentist and they should know better. X-rays are taken; teeth are cleaned and polished, albeit with icky cinnamon paste. I’m told my teeth look great, my care is great and to keep doing what I’m doing. And then New Dentist came in. She hemmed. She hawed. She murmured random letters at Sad Faced but Cheery Dental Hygienist as she poked at my shiny cinnamon buffed teeth. And then she looked at me in pity, pointed at invisible shadows on my x-rays and told me I have eleven cavities and that I needed a root canal. ELEVEN??? AND A FLIPPING ROOT CANAL??? What the hell? How did I go from “Your teeth look great!” to “ You have eleven cavities and need a root canal so go ahead and sell your car because dental insurance is a joke and won’t cover but one of these procedures!” HOW?!? I laughed in her face. I laughed when she told me and I laughed when she asked if I had any questions. I laughed when she showed me the ‘treatment plan’ that included columns and columns of numbers that added up to way more than a $700+ plane ticket home. I laughed when she showed me a short video on root canals that resembled those videos they showed us in school about the birds and the bees. And I laughed when they asked me if I’d like them to go ahead and set up the appointments now. Because obviously the answer to that would be “NO, THANK YOU! I don’t want to set up anything right now. Because my new current ‘treatment plan’ is to let all my teeth fall out of my face, thank you very much.” I then laughed my way out of the office and home to Husband where I laugh ranted at the indignities of life and he told me it was an obvious scam. Then I laugh ranted to Mom through a shoddy connection on my cell, who also told me it was an obvious scam. And I laugh ranted through dinner with my friend who seriously could care less about my teeth but also thought it was a scam. Then I came home and spent the evening looking at tickets to fly back to see Old Dentist because the expensive ticket price home to see him for a teeth cleaning is now totally reasonable when faced with a small mortgage on the house and cinnamon paste. I brush my teeth every night before bed. But last night, under protest, I did not. Either my teeth have let me down or it’s a scam. Either way, I didn’t speak to them. I’m spiteful like that.
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AuthorMy name is ej. I'm a girl. I say that because with the short hair and the short initials, folks aren't always sure. More brilliant insights to who I am in About me Archives
April 2019
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