The last leg of
my dental story took place yesterday. I actually left the house with nerves
because I feared a confrontation with my dentist. When I called last week to
schedule my appointment, I had a little run-in with the girl handling
appointments.
I gave her my
name, told her I had visited the office a few weeks before. I explained that I
had completed the root canal and needed a permanent filling.
“I see on your
chart that Dr. T specified a new crown.” Then the girl continued, “I need you
to pay $800.00 for the crown right now. Are you prepared to do so?”
“What?” I
exclaimed. “No. No. I don’t need a crown. The endodontist saved my crown. He
said I need a permanent filling.”
“That’s not the
notation the doctor left in your file.”
“I’m not paying for a crown! I don’t need
one!” My tone heated quickly. “Look, I just came back from the endodontist. His
instructions were to call my dentist and schedule for a permanent filling. That’s
all I will have done!”
“Welllllll,” the
receptionist drew out the word as she tried to figure out what to do. “I’ll
tell you what I can do. I’ll schedule you for a consultation. Then Dr. T can
determine if you only need a permanent filling instead of a new crown.”
The edge in my
voice cut sharply as I stated, “No. You will schedule me for one appointment,
and that will be for a permanent filling. Not a consultation. Not a crown. A
permanent filling. My sister has come into town specifically to care for my
mother while I have this work done. I will not and cannot extend this over two
more appointments!”
Trying to
placate me, the young woman offered a compromise, “I’ll schedule you for a
consultation but put into the notation that you will probably need a permanent
filling to be filled immediately. Will that work?”
Like I had a
choice?
So yesterday I
fretted on whether I’d enter the dental office for a final visit, or if I’d get
the run around about a consultation and a second schedule for the permanent
filling. I left the house ready to do battle and vowed to my sister and mother
that I would return with a permanent filling—or else!
When I arrived
at the office, the receptionist pulled out my file.
“Hmmm. . . you
are here for?”
“A permanent
filling on number 19,” I offered quickly before any other option could surface.
I plastered a smile on my face and hoped my confidence would convince the girl
that I wasn’t there for a consultation.
“Oh. Yes.” As
she flipped through my file, I saw the report from the endodontist. Relief hit
me then because I knew I wouldn’t have to do battle after all.
Eventually, the
assistant pulled me back, took another x-ray, and draped me with my paper bib.
The dentist came in and explained that since the root canal “kills the tooth”
she wouldn’t use any local.
Within seventeen
minutes, she’d cleared out the temporary filling and replaced it with a new,
permanent filling!
After paying my
bill, I told the girl that I hoped I wouldn’t see her for six months when I
return for a cleaning.
Copyright 2012 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman
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