So, today was the day of the 15-minute follow-up dental appointment after the surprise extraction. Here's how it went:
Dentist: "Our computer's down. Why are you here?"
Chris: "I had a tooth out. You asked me to come back for a follow-up appointment."
Dentist: "Any problems?"
Chris: "Well, the tooth next to the hole is not supported on one side and now my bridge is unstable. I'm a musician, but I can't play until it's fixed. Oh, and I'm in constant pain."
Dentist: "There's nothing we can do about any of that."
Er, basically that was it. I was there for less than five minutes. She didn't even examine my mouth. I tried to clarify what she could do - but she just repeated that she couldn't do anything.
I think I need to change dentists again. Not playing is not an option. Nor is scoffing painkillers. And I'm certainly not going to just sit around waiting for all my teeth to fall out.
Monday 31 January 2011
Fear and loathing in the dentist's chair, part 1
Like many people of my generation, I suspect, I am petrified of the dentist. This is because, when I was a child in the 1960s and 70s, dentists were sadistic bastards.
I have vivid memories of being held down in the chair by one monster dressed all in green, his face hidden behind a green mask, while another green monster pressed the gas mask to my face. This was to remove my milk teeth so the adult teeth would grow in properly.
On one occasion during my teens, the dentist used a new treatment, called "Twighlight treatment", which gave me an out-of-body experience. Actually, it was fascinating looking over the dentist's shoulder and watching as he gave me a filling. It wasn't so funny watching three people shaking me and shouting at me to wake up.
Despite my fear, I have always managed to attend regular check-ups. I've always done whatever I've been told to look after my teeth. However, I have an inherited condition which (without going into detail) means that I'm basically fighting a losing battle.
I had been seeing a very nice dentist who understood my fears as well as my mouth and was very patient and reasuring. But her surgery is quite far away from both my home and work so 10 days ago, being due a regular check-up, I decided to register with a dentist nearer home.
Being well aware that I needed treatment, I was expecting an initial check-up and perhaps a discussion of my dental history and needs before making a follow-up appointment.
This is what happened:
[Chris walks, trembling slightly, into the surgery.]
Dentist: "Take a seat there."
[Chris sits on the dentist's chair.]
[Dentist tips the chair so patient's head is lower than her feet.]
Chris: [Gripping the sides of the chair in fear of slipping off head-first] "I should warn you, I'm a very nervous patient."
[Dentist says nothing.]
Chris: "I have a loose tooth at the back, which I know will have to come out soon. I've been seeing [a specialist] who has helped me hold on to it for as long as possible."
Dentist: [Feeling the said wobbly tooth] "Yes, that tooth is very loose."
[Dentist gives Chris an injection.]
Chris: [Trembling] "Mmmble mmbble squeak."
Dentist: "Hold still. I have to take this tooth out."
[Chris starts to cry like a scared little girl.]
Dentist's assistant: "Don't worry, she's very good at this."
[Dentist extracts tooth, shoves cotton pad into the hole, gives Chris a leaflet about tooth extraction.]
Dentist: "Make a follow-up appointment. Make it a 15-minute appointment."
[Chris makes the appointment and runs away.]
This woman's lack of empathy, compassion or even good manners has set me back more than 40 years.
I have vivid memories of being held down in the chair by one monster dressed all in green, his face hidden behind a green mask, while another green monster pressed the gas mask to my face. This was to remove my milk teeth so the adult teeth would grow in properly.
On one occasion during my teens, the dentist used a new treatment, called "Twighlight treatment", which gave me an out-of-body experience. Actually, it was fascinating looking over the dentist's shoulder and watching as he gave me a filling. It wasn't so funny watching three people shaking me and shouting at me to wake up.
Despite my fear, I have always managed to attend regular check-ups. I've always done whatever I've been told to look after my teeth. However, I have an inherited condition which (without going into detail) means that I'm basically fighting a losing battle.
I had been seeing a very nice dentist who understood my fears as well as my mouth and was very patient and reasuring. But her surgery is quite far away from both my home and work so 10 days ago, being due a regular check-up, I decided to register with a dentist nearer home.
Being well aware that I needed treatment, I was expecting an initial check-up and perhaps a discussion of my dental history and needs before making a follow-up appointment.
This is what happened:
[Chris walks, trembling slightly, into the surgery.]
Dentist: "Take a seat there."
[Chris sits on the dentist's chair.]
[Dentist tips the chair so patient's head is lower than her feet.]
Chris: [Gripping the sides of the chair in fear of slipping off head-first] "I should warn you, I'm a very nervous patient."
[Dentist says nothing.]
Chris: "I have a loose tooth at the back, which I know will have to come out soon. I've been seeing [a specialist] who has helped me hold on to it for as long as possible."
Dentist: [Feeling the said wobbly tooth] "Yes, that tooth is very loose."
[Dentist gives Chris an injection.]
Chris: [Trembling] "Mmmble mmbble squeak."
Dentist: "Hold still. I have to take this tooth out."
[Chris starts to cry like a scared little girl.]
Dentist's assistant: "Don't worry, she's very good at this."
[Dentist extracts tooth, shoves cotton pad into the hole, gives Chris a leaflet about tooth extraction.]
Dentist: "Make a follow-up appointment. Make it a 15-minute appointment."
[Chris makes the appointment and runs away.]
This woman's lack of empathy, compassion or even good manners has set me back more than 40 years.
Thursday 13 January 2011
Definition of double-Dutch
I'm fluent in many languages (English, American, Scots, the Doric, Deutschlish, Franglais, Swenglish, Anglo Saxon...) but the project I'm working on at the moment has me stumped.
I'm editing a document that was written in Finnish, Google-translated into English and revised by a Swede.
The result is double-Dutch.
I'm editing a document that was written in Finnish, Google-translated into English and revised by a Swede.
The result is double-Dutch.
Keeping my thoughts to myself
Just found this in the unpublished drafts part of the blog. I've no idea what set me off on this rant - but the sentiments still stand!
I can fight my own battles and I don't want someone else doing it for me. And I always assume that the people I know are able to do the same.
That's not to say I don't sympathise if you've got a problem, or that I won't give you my support and help if you want it - I just won't go complaining on your behalf without your specific instructions to do so.
Nor will I presume to know what you're thinking or assume that your view is the same as mine. And just because I don't express a view, it doesn't mean I either disagree or agree with you. It doesn't mean I don't have a view. It just means that, for the moment, I'm keeping my thoughts to myself.
I can fight my own battles and I don't want someone else doing it for me. And I always assume that the people I know are able to do the same.
That's not to say I don't sympathise if you've got a problem, or that I won't give you my support and help if you want it - I just won't go complaining on your behalf without your specific instructions to do so.
Nor will I presume to know what you're thinking or assume that your view is the same as mine. And just because I don't express a view, it doesn't mean I either disagree or agree with you. It doesn't mean I don't have a view. It just means that, for the moment, I'm keeping my thoughts to myself.
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