If you've ever been dumped on the phone you know the terrible silence between the "it's over" and the hysterical uncontrollable sob which comes from ones throat when the realization sets in that you, you who used to be "we," is painfully alone.
This is me, seven months ago with one exception. Rather than having my ass dumped by some boy, I'm on the phone with my dentist's secretary. She's telling me I have to drive to Redmond to sign some stupid waiver entitling my new dentist to my x-rays and I can't stop sobbing.
From the beginning: my teeth are as soft as marshmallows. My friend Patrick and I call it "Irish Catholic" teeth because we are both Irish Catholic and have cavity ridden mouths, occasional white spots on our front teeth, and a shocking sensitivity to cold foods (bite into a popsicle in front of us and watch us writhe). At the restaurant I work at I've asked people requesting no ice in their water if they are Irish Catholic and a surprising amount respond in the affirmative. Unless, of course, they have a thick East European accent (German or Russian), then I know it's just a culture thing.
Okay, so my teeth are an utter mess, but not really. They are beautiful. Perfect alignment, good color (no coffee or cigarettes), but truly a disaster waiting to happen. Cavity ridden and left untreated for years, the mouth of late night handfuls of chocolate chips and never, ever flossing. Comedian Dane Cook had it right when he said the anxiety of quitting smoking is matched by the anxiety of beginning to floss. Cut up and bloody gums. Gross.
So it's no surprise when all of a sudden I am laying on my couch tears rolling down my cheeks because it feels like I've been freshly punched in the face with a tooth ache. Yeah, I probably deserve it. Deserve it because I am poor as hell and living month by month with little more than rent money in my bank account. I deserve this pain because I have been a poor steward of annual check-ups, cleanings and flossing.
Day three: waiting for the pain to miraculously suppress itself I drink so much cold water my PH levels are off and I constantly feel drunk. Cold water, for whatever reason, is the ONLY thing that stops the pain. A sipful each time the pain surfaces takes it away, but only for about five minutes. With little choice, I start making phone calls. First I call my dentist, Coppertop Dental in Redmond, who I last visited in 2006 for a $100 new patient special (including x-rays, a check up and cleaning) begging for an emergency appointment that day for "unbearable pain." They turned me down. Okay, thanks a lot you guys.
From there, I look alphabetical in the phone book calling every dentist in Bend, standing in my kitchen, sipping cold water and pressing the heel of my palm into my right cheek.
"Hi (name of secretary), my name is Rachel. I am not a patient at this office but I have an unbearable tooth ache and need to come in for an emergency evaluation today."
I can't believe how many people just said, "no" straight up. "We're all booked for today," "there are no openings," "I'm sorry Dr. (name of dentist here) doesn't give fuckity fuck about your problems and you probably won't pay us anyway so suck on an ice cube and find yourself a clinic."
The dentist section of the Yellow Pages is looking like the writing on bathroom stalls; cuss words, harsh lines scratching out the least sympathetic offices, circles around the ones that can get me in later in the week (if it comes down to that). Some helpful secretaries open the phone book and make some recommendations for dentists more likely to take patients on short notice but even the dentists advertising "emergencies welcome" turn me down. Apparently unbearable pain doesn't qualify as an emergency, I need to be hemorrhaging from a gaping tooth wound (even then I have my doubts).
I called all the way to the K's until I decided to back track and call dentists I had reached the voicemail of.
This is how I met the office of Dr. Lisa Adams.
After explaining my situation to the secretary I was turned over to the dental assistant. I explained the situation to her; I was in unbearable pain and my regular dentist wouldn't schedule an emergency appointment.
"Well that's rude!" she exclaimed more like your favorite bartendar than a dental assistant. "Who is your dentist?"
"Dr. Fixott from Coppertop Dental in Redmond..." I admit, taking a sip of cold water.
"Oh, he's weird."
I can't stop smiling. I am scheduled for an appointment in an hour. "It will only take ten minutes," the dental assistant says, "anyone can do that." All I need to do is get my old dental office to send my x-rays and BANG! we're golden.
"You have to come into the office and sign to have your x-rays released."
I'm back on the phone with my old dentist. Let's get back to me crying. Crying because I don't have time to drive to Redmond to sign some goddamn waiver, crying because I am in so much pain, because I am poor, without dental insurance, no one seems to give a shit, gas is expensive, I have to work in a few hours, and because secretaries can be such jerks.
The secretary on the line is listening to me sob uncontrollably. She just dumped me, big time.
Phil Collins songs resound in my head, "I never wanted to say goodbye," "how can you just walk away from me?" 'I thought you'd always be there, I almost believed you," "I remember all the times I tried so hard and you laughed in my face cause you held all the cards. I don't care anymore. And I really ain't bothered what you think of me cause all I want of you is just a let me be. I don't care anymore d'you hear? I don't care no more."
"Are you still there?" she interrupts.
Between chokes and violent snuffles (aren't those embarrassing?) I explain the situation. I have an appointment with another dentist in an hour. I live in Bend. I can't drive to Redmond. And I hate your guts.
"Oh, well, we can fax the paper work to the dental office in Bend and you can sign it there."
"Oh, can I? Really? It's so helpful of you to mention that!"
I love my new dentist. We make dental love every month for my monthly fillings. My dentist calls me and badgers me to come in more often. She cleans my teeth. I give her lots and lots of money and she gives me lots and lots of Novocaine.
I'm not the kind of person who likes to broadcast flagrant discrepancies. I am fair minded, undramatic, polite, and traditionally diplomatic but
Coppertop Denstristry=bad, bad, bad
The office of Dr. Lisa Adams=good, good, good
My emergency appointment lasted ten minutes (not counting paperwork time) and I received pain killers (Vicodin, which gives me stomach cramps so I didn't take them) and an anti-biotic making the pain go away in a few days. My root canal (indeed, I needed a root canal*) was scheduled for the next week just like that.
Phil Collins says it best:"when this world makes you crazy and you've taken all you can bear you call me up because you know I'll be there."
*A root canal - by Jessica Judith Pickens-Prescher, CDA EFDA
When you need a root canal it is because your tooth has an abscess at the apex of your root.
So we open up your root and saw all of your canals with these little files. Sometimes pus and stink comes out**. Then, we fill your tooth with gutta percha and put a crown on it. The end.
Jessica says "I hate dentistry and dentists"
**My abscess smelled like a dead person left alone in a stuffy apartment with no windows! BAD!
This is me, seven months ago with one exception. Rather than having my ass dumped by some boy, I'm on the phone with my dentist's secretary. She's telling me I have to drive to Redmond to sign some stupid waiver entitling my new dentist to my x-rays and I can't stop sobbing.
From the beginning: my teeth are as soft as marshmallows. My friend Patrick and I call it "Irish Catholic" teeth because we are both Irish Catholic and have cavity ridden mouths, occasional white spots on our front teeth, and a shocking sensitivity to cold foods (bite into a popsicle in front of us and watch us writhe). At the restaurant I work at I've asked people requesting no ice in their water if they are Irish Catholic and a surprising amount respond in the affirmative. Unless, of course, they have a thick East European accent (German or Russian), then I know it's just a culture thing.
Okay, so my teeth are an utter mess, but not really. They are beautiful. Perfect alignment, good color (no coffee or cigarettes), but truly a disaster waiting to happen. Cavity ridden and left untreated for years, the mouth of late night handfuls of chocolate chips and never, ever flossing. Comedian Dane Cook had it right when he said the anxiety of quitting smoking is matched by the anxiety of beginning to floss. Cut up and bloody gums. Gross.
So it's no surprise when all of a sudden I am laying on my couch tears rolling down my cheeks because it feels like I've been freshly punched in the face with a tooth ache. Yeah, I probably deserve it. Deserve it because I am poor as hell and living month by month with little more than rent money in my bank account. I deserve this pain because I have been a poor steward of annual check-ups, cleanings and flossing.
Day three: waiting for the pain to miraculously suppress itself I drink so much cold water my PH levels are off and I constantly feel drunk. Cold water, for whatever reason, is the ONLY thing that stops the pain. A sipful each time the pain surfaces takes it away, but only for about five minutes. With little choice, I start making phone calls. First I call my dentist, Coppertop Dental in Redmond, who I last visited in 2006 for a $100 new patient special (including x-rays, a check up and cleaning) begging for an emergency appointment that day for "unbearable pain." They turned me down. Okay, thanks a lot you guys.
From there, I look alphabetical in the phone book calling every dentist in Bend, standing in my kitchen, sipping cold water and pressing the heel of my palm into my right cheek.
"Hi (name of secretary), my name is Rachel. I am not a patient at this office but I have an unbearable tooth ache and need to come in for an emergency evaluation today."
I can't believe how many people just said, "no" straight up. "We're all booked for today," "there are no openings," "I'm sorry Dr. (name of dentist here) doesn't give fuckity fuck about your problems and you probably won't pay us anyway so suck on an ice cube and find yourself a clinic."
The dentist section of the Yellow Pages is looking like the writing on bathroom stalls; cuss words, harsh lines scratching out the least sympathetic offices, circles around the ones that can get me in later in the week (if it comes down to that). Some helpful secretaries open the phone book and make some recommendations for dentists more likely to take patients on short notice but even the dentists advertising "emergencies welcome" turn me down. Apparently unbearable pain doesn't qualify as an emergency, I need to be hemorrhaging from a gaping tooth wound (even then I have my doubts).
I called all the way to the K's until I decided to back track and call dentists I had reached the voicemail of.
This is how I met the office of Dr. Lisa Adams.
After explaining my situation to the secretary I was turned over to the dental assistant. I explained the situation to her; I was in unbearable pain and my regular dentist wouldn't schedule an emergency appointment.
"Well that's rude!" she exclaimed more like your favorite bartendar than a dental assistant. "Who is your dentist?"
"Dr. Fixott from Coppertop Dental in Redmond..." I admit, taking a sip of cold water.
"Oh, he's weird."
I can't stop smiling. I am scheduled for an appointment in an hour. "It will only take ten minutes," the dental assistant says, "anyone can do that." All I need to do is get my old dental office to send my x-rays and BANG! we're golden.
"You have to come into the office and sign to have your x-rays released."
I'm back on the phone with my old dentist. Let's get back to me crying. Crying because I don't have time to drive to Redmond to sign some goddamn waiver, crying because I am in so much pain, because I am poor, without dental insurance, no one seems to give a shit, gas is expensive, I have to work in a few hours, and because secretaries can be such jerks.
The secretary on the line is listening to me sob uncontrollably. She just dumped me, big time.
Phil Collins songs resound in my head, "I never wanted to say goodbye," "how can you just walk away from me?" 'I thought you'd always be there, I almost believed you," "I remember all the times I tried so hard and you laughed in my face cause you held all the cards. I don't care anymore. And I really ain't bothered what you think of me cause all I want of you is just a let me be. I don't care anymore d'you hear? I don't care no more."
"Are you still there?" she interrupts.
Between chokes and violent snuffles (aren't those embarrassing?) I explain the situation. I have an appointment with another dentist in an hour. I live in Bend. I can't drive to Redmond. And I hate your guts.
"Oh, well, we can fax the paper work to the dental office in Bend and you can sign it there."
"Oh, can I? Really? It's so helpful of you to mention that!"
I love my new dentist. We make dental love every month for my monthly fillings. My dentist calls me and badgers me to come in more often. She cleans my teeth. I give her lots and lots of money and she gives me lots and lots of Novocaine.
I'm not the kind of person who likes to broadcast flagrant discrepancies. I am fair minded, undramatic, polite, and traditionally diplomatic but
Coppertop Denstristry=bad, bad, bad
The office of Dr. Lisa Adams=good, good, good
My emergency appointment lasted ten minutes (not counting paperwork time) and I received pain killers (Vicodin, which gives me stomach cramps so I didn't take them) and an anti-biotic making the pain go away in a few days. My root canal (indeed, I needed a root canal*) was scheduled for the next week just like that.
Phil Collins says it best:"when this world makes you crazy and you've taken all you can bear you call me up because you know I'll be there."
*A root canal - by Jessica Judith Pickens-Prescher, CDA EFDA
When you need a root canal it is because your tooth has an abscess at the apex of your root.
So we open up your root and saw all of your canals with these little files. Sometimes pus and stink comes out**. Then, we fill your tooth with gutta percha and put a crown on it. The end.
Jessica says "I hate dentistry and dentists"
**My abscess smelled like a dead person left alone in a stuffy apartment with no windows! BAD!
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