Over the years, I have been in several serious relationships. Some of these have ended on good terms, some of them have ended horribly, and all have involved hours on my back, lots of tears and the exchange of large amounts of money.
I am referring, of course, to the many dentists who have come and gone through my adult life. One was fantastic, but when it took me 2 years to get the money to pay for a series of treatments I was too embarrassed to go back. One was horrid, screwed up a root canal, and tried to drain what he thought was an abscess (which is probably actually a very small cyst) by puncturing it without first providing me the benefit of local anesthetic.
My latest dentist is actually a practice where I have now seen 3 of the dental docs - all of whom have been so far stellar. The hygienists and various assistants are 99% female, and they all know me by sight and name and always remember to ask about my kids. They all knew when I had to go in for an emergency root canal the day I left the hospital with Toby, and remembered to ask at my cleaning today how he is. They also demanded to see photos, and (geek that I am) I had my digital camera at the ready with a plethora of recently shot photos and quicktime videos.
When Trip asked me to marry him, I told him (in no uncertain terms) that he first had to be aware of a few things. Some of those things are none of your business, but one I will share. I told him point blank that, over the course of our marriage, he should expect to invest the price of a very nice cadillac into the care and repair of my teeth. At the time, he thought I was kidding. He has since learned how deadly serious I was...
For the first time in my adult life, however, my dentist has worked with me to put together a treatment plan, and they have perfect awareness that I won't be able to pay them for all of the work up front. They have no problem letting us make monthly payments, and in the mean time they have been seeing me every 4 months for a thorough cleaning and to monitor the status of my problems. (Which are too numerous to list here. My teeth have all the stamina of a large brick of chalk..)
If you want to understand how I feel about my dental life at present, you must imagine my life before. Picture a draconian chamber of torture, complete with dull, rusted blades and a wart-nosed receptionist named Elga who has more hair in her eyebrows than on her head. Now picture stepping from that room into a state-of-the-art surgery theater, where a doctor with the bedside manner of Patrick Dempsey on Grey's Anatomy waits for me past a receptionist with the face and charm of Reese Witherspoon. And, thanks to extra-frequent total cleanings and good advice, I can state - for the first time I can remember - that my teeth have not developed any NEW problems in the last six months.
As I ponder my situation, I can't help but wonder... who would have thought a person not into S&M could ever feel so kindly disposed toward a place where you fork over buckets of money in exchange for intense pain?
No comments:
Post a Comment