I’ve decided that one of us needs to become an Australian dentist. I went to one today for a regular checkup and not only did she clean my teeth, she cleaned out my wallet too at the rather heady rate of $17.60 a MINUTE.
From outside her practice doors, one would think they were in for a high class experience. But her storefront was all smoke and mirrors, for behind the chair-side HP computer and the fancy rinse cup stand and the artsy spit bath was anything but a high-tech experience. That scraper tool thing they start with? Not of this decade, let alone this century. All those primal childhood dental fears brought right to surface with the words ‘raise your hand if this hurts.’ I knew I was in trouble.
With no sunglasses to block out the overhead spotlight and no headphones to block out the noise, I opted to focus my attention instead on my sweaty palms, wondering which one would betray me first and go skyrocketing into the air as the dentist mined her way deeper inside my trembling jaw. This is taking forever, I thought, as I tried shifting my focus back to a visualization of what I had seen in the waiting room. Or more specifically, what I hadn’t seen. Where were all of the dental diplomas, proclaiming boldly in Times New Roman that my dentist, my current torturer wielding this 16th century tool fired by double D batteries, had graduated from a prestigious dental school? Hell, any dental school?
Hands still firmly clasped on my now rumbling belly, it was time to move on to the gritty toothpaste scrubbing followed by a fluoride treatment. This took all of 5 minutes, 2 of which were spent with me fumbling the rubber dams of gelatinous fluoride into place while trying to answer the dentist’s question “Don’t they use fluoride in the States?” (Not like this, they don’t.)
The whole thing was over in 15 minutes. Seriously. No gum probing, no flossing, and just two quick X-rays to tell me that my teeth were healthy and all was good and that will be $264 please. I think for my next 6 month checkup I’ll just buy myself a new toothbrush, a fresh spool of floss, and call it good.
dear aunty gina and aunty dina – after reading your account, no way no how am i getting any dental work done downunder – shish kabob! my mum, anna has had good luck with her dentist – but she’s not as discerning as you two –
i read your blog about your brissy visit and i hope your friends and family don’t think i’m a big winger but if you promise to come see me again, i won’t complain about aunty gina taking my spot in the front seat:)