Grey skies.
A piece has broken off a molar.
It's not a devastating break. My brain didn't even realise it had happened.
My tongue found it.
I registered a kind of minor ache in my left lower jaw. Nothing dramatic. Not even enough to move the needle on the discomfort metre really, but my damn tongue just wouldn't leave it alone.
Not like Nabakov's happy seal, though.
His tongue, a fat sleek seal, used to flop and slide so happily among the familiar rocks, checking the contours of a battered but still secure kingdom, plunging from cave to cove, climbing this jag, nuzzling that notch, finding a shred of sweet seaweed in the same old cleft... (Pnin, 1957)
Mine hasn't been frolicking playfully.
Mine's been prodding and rasping in a frightfully accusatory manner.
Repeatedly.
Annoyingly.
Incessantly.
Ignore this.
I dare you.
I'm not scared of the dentist, though Lord knows I probably should be. I really don't know why I kept going back to Dr Skinner for so many years — decades — especially after those several times he braced one foot against the base of the hydraulic chair for extra leverage to extract a tooth that remained staunchly unwilling to give up its permanent status.
"Better than ... errrgh ... having to...nmnph... wear braces," he assured me as I ... ahem... braced against the g-force.
No, it's not the fear of the dentist that's brought on the grey skies; it's the having to find a new dentist in this foreign place. I've only regularly attended three different dental practices in my 60 years.
Finding a new dentist to trust — one who doesn't overcharge, over-service or over-emote — is almost as difficult as finding a new hairdresser.
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| Harley Street waiting room £££ |
Harley Street is so posh that the footpaths are even.
If you've ever walked the streets of London, you'll know that's a very big deal.
So, yes, she was lovely.
And yes, she was thorough.
But yes, as my dear dad would've said, she charged like a wounded bull.
I won't be going back.
I have to find a dentist on a precariously overcrowded street — one with bins in the front yards, and cracks in the footpath.
Wish me luck.
Well my experiences won't help you. I went to the same practice for years but it wasn't near home. Switched to a local one and haven't seen the same dentist twice. They've been chasing us to get checkups but every time I call I get their answer phone. I left a message and heard nothing. Just got another text reminding us we needs checkups! Hope you find someone and get your tooth fixed soon.
ReplyDeleteI took a chance on a local practice that looked friendly and had a price list to show me and am delighted to say it's a gem. I lucked in!
DeleteCommon experience unfortunately. I had a dentist I trusted and visited regularly in Wollongong. Since I moved to Darwin two and half years ago, I haven't been to the dentist. I know I need to, but there is the trust issue and the cost issue. My solution? I'm going to Vietnam for dental treatment. I may not know the dentist but at least the cost won;t be ridiculous even if they do try to overcharge me (because I must be rich coming from Australia). My advantage is a Vietnamese wife who blows up big time when her countrymen try to gouge foreigners). Good luck Wendy.
ReplyDeleteThat made me laugh. I have family members who are Korean and when we are in Korea, they make formidable shopping companions, so I can only imagine how protective they'd be at the dentist.
ReplyDeleteThanks for dropping by my blog.