I'm sitting in the waiting room at my New York dentist. I have come to know this room very well. Tuesday night I was indulging in my latest addiction, coconut and lemon cake, when I bit into something very hard. As luck would have it, a molar had disintegrated.
Unfortunately, the week before I had agreed to go through with a root canal. For the dentally naïve among you, a "root canal" is an attempt to save a tooth in which a cavity has developed despite having had a cavity filled in the same tooth previously. They remove the core of your tooth, the pulp, and then the "root canal" is excavated. At the bottom of the tooth there is 1 to 3 canals that need to be painstakingly cleared of rotten pulp. The dentist then fills the canal(s) and tooth itself with gutta percha, a tree sap product that resembles rubber cement.
For people of my generation a root canal has nightmarish connotations. I can remember my mum being knocked out for a week over one. However, today it is a lot different. It is, with a skilled dentist, more or less as troublesome as getting a filling. My dentist had wanted to wait a week before starting the process which can take up to 4 seperate visits. As I said, my molar imploded in the meantime.
After a sleepless night Tuesday I woke up bright and early and came to my dentist's office expecting to have the molar pulled. As I entered the building the over-chatty doorman gleefully told me that Wednesday is my dentist's regular day off. Since when? In any event I sheepishly thanked him and left in search of relief.
One great thing about New York City is that it is chock full of dentists and doctors. I went into a shiny bright dental clinic and of course the very ffirst question concerned my dental coverage. After finding that I am fully insured without a deductable the receptionist was a lot sweeter. After filling out the paperwork she told me, "Um, today is the dentist's day off but I can fit you in first thing tomorrow." By now I am getting peeved to say the least.
Rachamim: "Why would you not tell me that BEFORE I filled out the 50 sheets worth of paperwork?"
Receptionist: "I'm so sorry sir, I thought you understood that the dentist will not be in until tomorrow."
Rachamim: "Yeah, well my mind fucken' reading skills are a bit rusty but if you bend over I will attempt to deeply search your brain cavity."
Receptionist: "Ohhhh, I hope you feel better."
"Whatever"...slam the door...exit stage left.
Next I walked into a sleazy looking dental clinic and asked if there was actually a dentist on the premises. I felt such a sense of relief when she answered in the affirmative. With noone else in the waiting room I was ushered into a small room where a dumpy looking dental hygienist took a full set of xrays, almost making me vomit three times as she shoved the film deep into my gullet.
Next I was ushered into a treatment room. I look up and lo and behold, the only wall decoration was a poster for the 1980s film "Doc Hollywood." When I saw that I should have got up and ran, fast. Why would you spend money to buy a poster of a 30 year old movie that noone cared about? Did they REALLY think that THAT created some sort of ambiance? In their defence, perhaps it was hiding some disgusting stain.
In walks a South Asian dentist. That made me nervous. Naturally, after examing my mouth a dentist inevitably asks me what caused all that major damage. If the dentist was a Pakistani or Bengladeshi (in other words, a Muslim) telling how I was wounded while fighting Muslims in Lebanon isn't going to make him warm up to me. If he were a Hindu he just might want to invite me to dinner but unless he tells me his name there isn't any way to tell.
Without introducing himself he immediately picks up the implement they use for teeth cleaning and begins scrubbing my teeth! Trying to rationalise this I told myself he is just super meticulous and wanted a clean working area before extracting the molar. Finishing in perhaps 3 minutes, he told me in an accent that sounded exactly like "Apu" from "The Simpsons," "You need to have 2 teeth pulled and you have an infection in your gums." I nodded my head and said, "Sure." His next comment floored me:
"You will have to go to the dental surgeon, there are 2, you can pick whichever location is more convenient for you."
Rachamim: "What? You cannot pull them here?"
Apu the Dentist: "Yes, I cannot do here sir. You have an infection and I would not be able to properly numb your jaw."
Rachamim: "So now I have to take ANOTHER taxi and once again go in as a walk in?"
Apu: "Yes. I can give you something for the pain if you want."
Rachamim: "Yessssssss."
Apu: "OK" and he fucken hands me a script for 20 Ibuprofens. If I was wired any tighter personality wise I would have probably strangled him. To compound the issue, Wednesday is a day I regularly go without methadone (I do so 2 times a week to give myself a break, it is too sedating sometimes). To say the least, my jaw was throbbing.
I didn't even fill the script. Instead, I bought some Ambesol, a topical anesthetic and went back to the flat. Bright and early the next day, Thursday, I returned to my dentist's office only to have that same glib doorman tell me that my dentist was taking an unscheduled day off. Uggggggghhhhh! At least I was going to the methadone clinic where I doubled up by taking one of my take homes, for a total of 440mgs and bought myself some relief.
After midnite the pain returned in force and voila, here I am.
I will continue later...
Unfortunately, the week before I had agreed to go through with a root canal. For the dentally naïve among you, a "root canal" is an attempt to save a tooth in which a cavity has developed despite having had a cavity filled in the same tooth previously. They remove the core of your tooth, the pulp, and then the "root canal" is excavated. At the bottom of the tooth there is 1 to 3 canals that need to be painstakingly cleared of rotten pulp. The dentist then fills the canal(s) and tooth itself with gutta percha, a tree sap product that resembles rubber cement.
For people of my generation a root canal has nightmarish connotations. I can remember my mum being knocked out for a week over one. However, today it is a lot different. It is, with a skilled dentist, more or less as troublesome as getting a filling. My dentist had wanted to wait a week before starting the process which can take up to 4 seperate visits. As I said, my molar imploded in the meantime.
After a sleepless night Tuesday I woke up bright and early and came to my dentist's office expecting to have the molar pulled. As I entered the building the over-chatty doorman gleefully told me that Wednesday is my dentist's regular day off. Since when? In any event I sheepishly thanked him and left in search of relief.
One great thing about New York City is that it is chock full of dentists and doctors. I went into a shiny bright dental clinic and of course the very ffirst question concerned my dental coverage. After finding that I am fully insured without a deductable the receptionist was a lot sweeter. After filling out the paperwork she told me, "Um, today is the dentist's day off but I can fit you in first thing tomorrow." By now I am getting peeved to say the least.
Rachamim: "Why would you not tell me that BEFORE I filled out the 50 sheets worth of paperwork?"
Receptionist: "I'm so sorry sir, I thought you understood that the dentist will not be in until tomorrow."
Rachamim: "Yeah, well my mind fucken' reading skills are a bit rusty but if you bend over I will attempt to deeply search your brain cavity."
Receptionist: "Ohhhh, I hope you feel better."
"Whatever"...slam the door...exit stage left.
Next I walked into a sleazy looking dental clinic and asked if there was actually a dentist on the premises. I felt such a sense of relief when she answered in the affirmative. With noone else in the waiting room I was ushered into a small room where a dumpy looking dental hygienist took a full set of xrays, almost making me vomit three times as she shoved the film deep into my gullet.
Next I was ushered into a treatment room. I look up and lo and behold, the only wall decoration was a poster for the 1980s film "Doc Hollywood." When I saw that I should have got up and ran, fast. Why would you spend money to buy a poster of a 30 year old movie that noone cared about? Did they REALLY think that THAT created some sort of ambiance? In their defence, perhaps it was hiding some disgusting stain.
In walks a South Asian dentist. That made me nervous. Naturally, after examing my mouth a dentist inevitably asks me what caused all that major damage. If the dentist was a Pakistani or Bengladeshi (in other words, a Muslim) telling how I was wounded while fighting Muslims in Lebanon isn't going to make him warm up to me. If he were a Hindu he just might want to invite me to dinner but unless he tells me his name there isn't any way to tell.
Without introducing himself he immediately picks up the implement they use for teeth cleaning and begins scrubbing my teeth! Trying to rationalise this I told myself he is just super meticulous and wanted a clean working area before extracting the molar. Finishing in perhaps 3 minutes, he told me in an accent that sounded exactly like "Apu" from "The Simpsons," "You need to have 2 teeth pulled and you have an infection in your gums." I nodded my head and said, "Sure." His next comment floored me:
"You will have to go to the dental surgeon, there are 2, you can pick whichever location is more convenient for you."
Rachamim: "What? You cannot pull them here?"
Apu the Dentist: "Yes, I cannot do here sir. You have an infection and I would not be able to properly numb your jaw."
Rachamim: "So now I have to take ANOTHER taxi and once again go in as a walk in?"
Apu: "Yes. I can give you something for the pain if you want."
Rachamim: "Yessssssss."
Apu: "OK" and he fucken hands me a script for 20 Ibuprofens. If I was wired any tighter personality wise I would have probably strangled him. To compound the issue, Wednesday is a day I regularly go without methadone (I do so 2 times a week to give myself a break, it is too sedating sometimes). To say the least, my jaw was throbbing.
I didn't even fill the script. Instead, I bought some Ambesol, a topical anesthetic and went back to the flat. Bright and early the next day, Thursday, I returned to my dentist's office only to have that same glib doorman tell me that my dentist was taking an unscheduled day off. Uggggggghhhhh! At least I was going to the methadone clinic where I doubled up by taking one of my take homes, for a total of 440mgs and bought myself some relief.
After midnite the pain returned in force and voila, here I am.
I will continue later...