I just got back from my fourth visit in one month with you. When I came in for my checkup, I thought that I'd done everything right. Flossed regularly, brushed 3 times daily, even gave myself the occasional scrape. You even complimented me on my 'perfect' teeth and told me that you could stare at them all day long. Then, in the next breath, you told me that I would need two of my old fillings replaced, as cavities had made their ways into my back molars, numbers 4 and 16 respectively. Disappointed in my rotting head, I obediently scheduled my appointment to return two weeks later.
When I came in to get my fillings, I was grilled by the hood-ratty Mexican (not being racist, she was just ghetto) asking me if I remembered whether I paid my copay from last time or not. I replied annoyed, "I don't know, isn't that your job?" She asked me to check if I could find my receipt. Ten minutes later, the painfully nice hygienist took me back and prepped me for the fillings. You waltzed in swabbed me, injected me, and told me to lie back.
Twenty-some odd (very odd) minutes of blackberrying/working from the dentist chair later, you and your minion came back and started drilling. You drilled big holes into my head and told me you were going to "let my jaws rest" a bit. Then you disappeared! You freaking left me hanging there for like, what seemed like an eternity, but probably more along the lines of another 35 minutes or something. At one point, I got out of the chair to search for you. I wandered into the manager's office and found a dachshund staring back at me. I mean, I lovelovelove dogs and all, but couldn't help but think it was a) unsanitary and b) unsanitary? I bumped into the office manager and he assured me that you didn't forget about me and that you'd be right in.
Ten additional minutes later, you came back to me and apologized with your big brown puppy dog eyes and explained about an emergency walk in, blah blah. I tried to be mad at you, but couldn't really be mad at you. By this time the fucking novacaine was wearing off, and I began to feel ever jab and grind. I told you and you gave me some more bitter topical. I just beared through the rest of it. You seemed a little frazzled and tiny beads of sweat emerged from your flawless maple-syrupy skin. While you were polishing you clumsily knocked around in my mouth as if you were stirring creamer into your morning coffee.
At this point, my stomach began to growl and demand food. The sun was setting and I just wanted to get home. You blazed me and patched me up, over two and a half hours later. I said thanks and got the hell outta dodge. On the way home, I started noticing another pain in a completely unrelated, healthy tooth! I figured it would probably go away and ignored it for a while. The pain and numbness in my drilled teeth subsided, but the pain in my formerly good tooth began to ache all the way up to my brain.
Back at the homestead, I began to religiously stick a white, but beginning to yellow, little plastic dental mirror purchased decades ago from a drugstore into my mouth and study every nook and cranny. I spotted a dark line crossing toof #5 (pulsating tooth in question), one that was not mirrored by it's neighbor #12 across the way. "It looks like a stain," R said peering into my mouth. It's NOT a stain and it was NOT there before. I was sure of it. Bitch had broke my tooth! It made me (continues to make me) very cantankerous and I called back on Monday to schedule yet another appointment to show them their handiwork. They asked me if I could come in on Friday and I replied, aww fuck naww! I'm in so much pain! I decided to be the emergency walk in of the day.
X-rays, prodding, liquid nitrogen drenched q-tips... "Oh nope, I don't see anything. did YOU eat any walnuts or anything hard?" you inquired. "No, it started hurting right after the filling, and you knocked into it a few times with the polisher," I said accusingly. You told me to come back in 10 days if it still hurt and that I might need a crown. Blurgh. I'd never had anything more serious than a filling before, a crown, or possibly a root canal because of your carelessness, really pissed me off.
Like before, I left work early and came back in today because the pain had not subsided and I was popping ibuprofen like a fiend just to be able to think straight and be productive. You asked me if the pain had gotten better and I said no. You told me that it would be a filling instead of a crown, that you'd just file the crack away and fill'er up. I didn't protest and was thankful that you could do this today because it's superfuckingbusy season at work, and I didn't want to come back a fucking fifth time. More drilling, more filling. In between suctions, I asked, "So it definitely was a crack and I wasn't imagining it right?" "Oh, that's silly of course it was a crack, you couldn't imagine pain like that." Funny, since you totally tried to talk me out of thinking I had anything wrong me last time! "So, It's not that severe to warrant a crown?" I muffled. "No, sometimes cracks just happen...you know... walnuts, or whatever..."
WALNUTS?!?!?! Who the fuck chomps on walnuts in the shell?!? What the fuck do I look like a motherfucking squirrel??? I laid there, enraged. I could feel my blood pressure rising. I knew I had to say something or else I'd regret it. "With all due respect," [read: none] "I'm positive that it was a direct result of my last filling and I haven't eaten any walnuts." "Oh, no, I teeth are really resilient, even if it didn't hurt before, the crack was probably already there." Ensue massive eye rolling and me getting ready to rumble.
First, I'm not even that MAD that you caused me two weeks of shooting brain pain, I just want some empathy. I know you can't flat out take responsibility for fear of being sued an all, but come the fuck on, don't try to blame me and my imaginary nut diet!
So ya finish up after humming along with Live and 3 Doors Down over the muzak and walk me to the hoodratceptionist. I'm ready to make a big stink if you were going to make me pay my deductible. I've already paid for FOUR copays, two of which were unnecessary. You told me that you were just going to say it was an "adjustment to the existing filling" and that it'd just be $10. I'll take that as an admission of guilt. Also, I feel gypped for not getting a crown.
It's 8:30 and I can feel my lip and nose again. What hurts more than my head is that no one believed me when I said it was cracked (except for maybe my mom), and that I was blamed for something that I didn't do. It's more about accountability and principle. Okay. This extremely long and boring post ends my pity party, but I had to get it off my chest. I'm switching dentists. It's over between you and me, Cute Dentist.