Dentists
Just when I was about to journal something...
The phone rings. The number is unfamiliar, but appears to be local. I answer:
[Me] Hello?
[Caller] Hi, it's Tracy from (local dental clinic that I visited 6 months ago) - this is just a courtesy reminder call for your six month check-up.
[Me] Oh. Ok. Thanks for calling, but strike me off your list - I've found another dentist.
~insert farewell salutations~
What Tracy doesn't know, and I was polite in not telling her, is the dentist she's employed by is the THIRD WORST dentist ever to stick gloved fingers into my mouth.
Six months ago, I had THE most agonizing tooth ache. I've had a few before, and have even personally pulled one of my own teeth that ached. I don't like dentists - never have - and might tell why later. Anyway, I had this ache.
In its early onset, I self-medicated with strong over-the-counter pain killers and oil-of-cloves (thanks to the book/movie Marathon Man for the heads-up on this!) As things got progressively worse, I succumbed and made an appointment with the aforementioned dentist.
I don't like dentists. I've never liked dentists. In the world of medicine, they're like optomitrists. But optomitrists aren't licenced to pull out eyeballs, nor drill holes into them. Something they don't teach dentists at their pseudo-medicine colleges.
But, I digress.
Anyways, I made the appointment and turned up dutifully and on time for my appointment - my tooth aching like a motherfucker.
Ordinarily, I am not "racist" by any stretch of the imagination, but the look of diplomas issued from various VietNamese "institutes of dental technition" should have been my first clue to grab my hat and run a mile. I gave the man the benefit of doubt.
I won't be petty and say I couldn't understand a word he said - about a subject that was about as far from my heart as my mouth is from my heart, and my mouth ached so much, I coulda almost ripped out my own heart with a bread knife, such was the pain in my mouth.
X-rays were taken. As they do. No sense in visiting a dental surgery unless you've been nuked with x-rays. When the (very non-vainglorious) pix returned, he declared words to the effect that I had some kind of bone disease in my jaw that he couldn't fix: not on the spot - not ever. Me, feeling somewhat disappointed by this, only paid the $97 bill because I had cash in my wallet and not a knife in my sock.
Feeling somewhat financially raped, and plotting all kinds of revenge against dentists generally, I went home and self-medicated again - this time adding vast quantities of dark rum. I won't lie and say this regime significantly lessened then pain, but the oil-of-cloves as a mixer with rum had a way of diluting thoughts of going ape-shit with a high-powered rifle with dentists in the crosshairs.
The following day, I made a new appointment with another dentist who, as it transpired, has my name. He's a locum in a larger clinic, but regularly works there. He confirmed what the previous dentist had said, however, he also (1) wrote a prescription for stronger drugs to alleviate the pain/cure of the infection and (2) negotiated a plan to "stabilize" the bone rot. That was six months ago.
If anything, Tracy has reminded me to make an appointment for a check-up with my newfound Savior of Glorious Teeth. I had a couple of smaller appointments with him after the first emergency and was told my teeth are actually in good repair. So, I'd like to keep it that way and daymn! if I'm going to make any routine follow-up appointment with a VietNamese Lawerence Olivier.
"Is it safe?"
In the words of children's songs, "No it's not!"
Mr P
The phone rings. The number is unfamiliar, but appears to be local. I answer:
[Me] Hello?
[Caller] Hi, it's Tracy from (local dental clinic that I visited 6 months ago) - this is just a courtesy reminder call for your six month check-up.
[Me] Oh. Ok. Thanks for calling, but strike me off your list - I've found another dentist.
~insert farewell salutations~
What Tracy doesn't know, and I was polite in not telling her, is the dentist she's employed by is the THIRD WORST dentist ever to stick gloved fingers into my mouth.
Six months ago, I had THE most agonizing tooth ache. I've had a few before, and have even personally pulled one of my own teeth that ached. I don't like dentists - never have - and might tell why later. Anyway, I had this ache.
In its early onset, I self-medicated with strong over-the-counter pain killers and oil-of-cloves (thanks to the book/movie Marathon Man for the heads-up on this!) As things got progressively worse, I succumbed and made an appointment with the aforementioned dentist.
I don't like dentists. I've never liked dentists. In the world of medicine, they're like optomitrists. But optomitrists aren't licenced to pull out eyeballs, nor drill holes into them. Something they don't teach dentists at their pseudo-medicine colleges.
But, I digress.
Anyways, I made the appointment and turned up dutifully and on time for my appointment - my tooth aching like a motherfucker.
Ordinarily, I am not "racist" by any stretch of the imagination, but the look of diplomas issued from various VietNamese "institutes of dental technition" should have been my first clue to grab my hat and run a mile. I gave the man the benefit of doubt.
I won't be petty and say I couldn't understand a word he said - about a subject that was about as far from my heart as my mouth is from my heart, and my mouth ached so much, I coulda almost ripped out my own heart with a bread knife, such was the pain in my mouth.
X-rays were taken. As they do. No sense in visiting a dental surgery unless you've been nuked with x-rays. When the (very non-vainglorious) pix returned, he declared words to the effect that I had some kind of bone disease in my jaw that he couldn't fix: not on the spot - not ever. Me, feeling somewhat disappointed by this, only paid the $97 bill because I had cash in my wallet and not a knife in my sock.
Feeling somewhat financially raped, and plotting all kinds of revenge against dentists generally, I went home and self-medicated again - this time adding vast quantities of dark rum. I won't lie and say this regime significantly lessened then pain, but the oil-of-cloves as a mixer with rum had a way of diluting thoughts of going ape-shit with a high-powered rifle with dentists in the crosshairs.
The following day, I made a new appointment with another dentist who, as it transpired, has my name. He's a locum in a larger clinic, but regularly works there. He confirmed what the previous dentist had said, however, he also (1) wrote a prescription for stronger drugs to alleviate the pain/cure of the infection and (2) negotiated a plan to "stabilize" the bone rot. That was six months ago.
If anything, Tracy has reminded me to make an appointment for a check-up with my newfound Savior of Glorious Teeth. I had a couple of smaller appointments with him after the first emergency and was told my teeth are actually in good repair. So, I'd like to keep it that way and daymn! if I'm going to make any routine follow-up appointment with a VietNamese Lawerence Olivier.
"Is it safe?"
In the words of children's songs, "No it's not!"
Mr P
Labels: Personal Stories, Stupid People
posted by Mister Pervert at 6:49 PM
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