“Adventures With the Dentist—Final Episode?”

         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

“Adventures with the Dentist”

         A few weeks ago I began sensing a difference in one of my molars. This tooth, crowned years ago, had never offered a twinge of complaint. Suddenly, I became aware of the tooth. Just a consciousness of its presence in my mouth. I don’t cringe with hot or cold foods. Searing pain doesn’t shoot through my mouth and jaw into my ear. I simply have this sensation that something is amiss. Over the weekend, discomfort entered into the picture. Not pain. Just a low level throb that came and went. Fearing that this throb is a precursor for excruciating pain, I scheduled an appointment with the dentist who had treated the tooth all those eons ago. A quick x-ray and a little more poking and prodding made her refer me to an endodontist.

         This morning, I endured more x-rays. I learned more about the roots of my teeth, the possibility of saving my crown (and money) and the promise of less discomfort down the road. Begging for the first available appointment since my sister’s here for a week, I hit my first disappointment—nothing open on his schedule until the first week of March. On that visit, the endodontist will drill into the tooth through the crown and check to see if the crown is letting bacteria into the tooth. He’ll pack the molar with antibiotics that will “cook” for a week to ten days. At that point, he’ll continue with the root canal and let me know if my crown can stay in place.

         I respect the medical and dental professionals, but I really don’t understand the high costs for their services. I know that this man will try his best to heal my tooth. But a part of me keeps zooming back on the expense of this procedure. I wonder if it’s worth the money, but feel like I have no choice in the matter. It’s like getting the brakes fixed on your car. A terrible expense that cannot be avoided.  

 Copyright 2012 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman