cat farts (or how I learned to love the dentist)

I went to the dentist yesterday.

I am not one of those chickens who recoil at the very sound of the word.
I just prefer not to go.

I go when I have to.
When a piece of tooth came off, I knew I’d probably have to.
When a piece of another tooth came off to make a point, I knew I’d have to.

So I called my new dentist. My wife found him for me. She used a very unique and interesting method to locate this fellow last time around: she went through all the dentists in the phone book and picked the one that sounded most like they’d been born in this country.

Fortunately or unfortunately this dental denizen was much smarter than his colleagues; he referred to his practice as Dental Excellence, Inc. He was also smarter than my wife, who made me the appointment with him last time for a (another) broken tooth. They saw me right away, provided excellent service, and did not frighten me, my wife, or the pets (as far as I know).

My first problem revealed itself as the dental tech introduced herself. I used to work next door to a dentist, which caused me to form a thesis. It seems that only young, attractive women get hired as dental techs. Prove me wrong.

Unfortunately in this case, the lady did not so much break my thesis as rip it up, stuff it down my pants, and set it on fire. That is to say she was not an Attractive Dental Babe. Fortunately for me she proved as competent as any other dental tech who has had the intestinal fortitude to touch my teeth in the past. Never mind that she told me something would have to be ripped out - she was just fine, thank you.

Meanwhile, there I was, possessed of two broken teeth and in need of a dentist toot sweet (is that a pun?). I called the office Tuesday and asked for the first available appointment (Saturday at eight a.m.). They asked if I was in pain, to which I replied that Shredded Tongue due to Sharp Tooth Fragments might qualify. So Saturday it was.

Fortunately they called Thursday because I asked to be put on a cancellation list. I left work early, relieved to finally be on the way to Good Dental Health, waited a total of five minutes, and got seated then.

My tech introduced herself as Ping. Immediately the Python bit about the Machine That Goes Bing came to mind (Python always comes to mind first). Then I immediately shifted over to the network utility called ping. Ping apologized for smelling like lunch. Since she didn’t, I asked what she had. Chinese food was the reply. I’m guessing this was supposed to be a joke, as she appeared Chinese.

What was immediately apparent was that there was an incredibly high latency on these pings, not to mention some serious packet loss. I decided not to pursue this line any further.

She quizzed me thoroughly about my health history, explaining that this was so she could protect herself as best she could. I mentioned having hepatitis when I was about eighteen, which alarmed her. She was further alarmed (as much as her culture would allow) over me not knowing which hepatitis I had. How the hell should I know - I was eighteen a long time ago. She asked what it was from. I told her too much sex and not enough sleep, which is actually true, along with the fact that I had mono concurrently, which alarmed the doctor enough to admit me to the hospital. He insisted.

So I told her it was ok - we wouldn’t be having any sex - she could just work on my teeth then.

Fortunately for one or both of us, she missed the joke. I made sure she understood that I thought she was wonderfully nice and that we would be good friends if we weren’t in the same room with pointy dental tools.

On the other hand, the one time I said `OW‘ was when she hit a certain spot. She managed to hit that spot three more times subsequently, so maybe she did get the joke.

This office had a really cool x-ray system, which `developed’ right to a laptop. After the x-rays were done, the doctor appeared. He shook my hand and said it was nice to meet me. Ping told him he had already worked on me, much to his embarrassment. I could hear him thinking `all you caucasians look alike to me‘ but I jest; he is a nice guy.
The doc looked at the x-rays, poked and prodded a bit, and said he’d see me soon.  I thought soon meant after he washed his hands.  He meant soon in the sense of `make an appointment soon‘.

I asked what was wrong with helping me today, as in this very day as I’m sitting in this very chair.

Ummm….. no.

The good doctor counted a cavity in addition to the two broken teeth, so the office would have to get in touch with the insurance to find out what they’d cover. When I asked about the jagged tongue-shredding tooth edges, he said he couldn’t do anything because the prep was different for his two options.

Just to make sure I understood this I went over the fact that my insurer would be perfectly ok with me sitting home, touching myself for two weeks while I waited for them to decide what kind of work I needed (as opposed to the actual dentist) and he said yes.

Needless to say, I’m mighty confused (moreso than normal).
I’m also thankful that this isn’t a coronary issue, else I’d be dead. And I have the good dental insurance.

But I did get nifty Parting Gifts, in the form of a bag with a toothbrush and toothpaste. And I got to pay sixty bucks on top of this for some sort of antibiotic that my insurer also won’t pay for.

I know this isn’t just me.

There’s a special place in hell for insurers.