Advertisement
Published: December 15th 2008
Edit Blog Post
Exhibit A
The top and bottom Thank you, Trish, for reminding me that I had not yet posted my conclusion to the riveting tale of my Chinese dental adventure. Where was I?
Oh, yes! The Monday visit for my third try at a new partial. I was greeted in the waiting room by the dentist, Jenny. She informed me that she was so nervous about this third partial that she had a hard time sleeping. She told me she gave extra care in preparing the last mold so the factory would have no excuse. "This one should be good!" Once again I assumed the position in a mercifully comfortable chair. She brought out the new partial and with a brief pause of anticipation, placed into the gaping space in the front of my mouth. Well, she tried anyway. Whereas the last one was clearly too big, this one was clearly too small. This time I am certain she was cursing in Mandarin. She got out several power tools, and with the kind of determination that can only be fully owned by the Chinese, she set to work. She was going to make it fit. She shaved a bit here, bent a bit there (on the partial,
not my mouth), but try as she might the darn thing did not want to go all the way in. (can I hear a collective "That's what she said"? Thank you.) She brought in reinforcements. Another dentist (a male) sat down and tried his luck. He chuckled, said a bunch of words I didn't understand in a "no way in hell" tone and left. She brought in another dentist (another male). This one had a kind voice, said "Thank you" (in Chinese, of course) to the attendant every time he asked for something, and tried to stick the partial to my gums with dental wax. His voice was so nice that I didn't really mind how much that freaking hurt. When he finally gave up and left me with Jenny and her assistant I had been laying in that chair for over an hour. My mouth was sore from holding it open so long (another perfect TWSS moment if there are any takers), my gums were raw from having the ill-fitting partial scraped across them, and my neck was tired.
Jenny FINALLY admitted that this type of partial was not going to work for me. I asked her if
Tah Dah!
Folks, I give you: My Y650 Christmas ornament! she could make a partial like my old one. "Yes, I think that would be a good idea. But it needs to be more durable. It will be made out of metal" Metal? I want a false tooth, not a Lil' John worthy grill. So I asked the stupid question: "The tooth won't be metal, will it?" "Oh, no! Just the base part will be metal" The assistant prepared another round of plaster goop for yet another mold. Just as the dentist was shoving in the metal frame filled with said goo she said to me, "Yes, the metal one will be better. You will feel temperature."
Temperature, temperature, hmmm.......
Suddenly, images flooded my brain of blisters forming on the roof of my mouth after taking a swig of scalding hot coffee. As my mouth was frozen in the slowly hardening plaster glop, I could only whimper silently in my private dental purgatory. As soon as she pried the mold out of me I exclaimed "Will it burn me?!?" "What? No! It will not burn you! You will only FEEL temperature, no pain"
I went back a week later to see what lay behind door number four. I just wanted the whole thing to be over. I had decided prior to that visit that I would 'love' whatever heinous crime upon dental implements she presented to me. I was done. So I sat down in the chair and awaited my fate. She brought out my shiny new partial. And, boy, do I mean shiny. She wasn't kidding when she said it would be metal. It looked like something that should be worn by a James Bond movie villain. It looked like a throwing star. It looked like something I was going to smile at, pay for, and never wear. She popped it in. It fit! Sort of. My old partial fits behind my teeth so that when I close my mouth my teeth nest together as they should. This one sits flush with my top teeth so that when I close my mouth my bottom teeth hit the metal. And the tooth itself is hideous. It's about a centimeter too long and about a shade of gray too gray. That's right. It's kinda gray. But I smiled, I said it looked great, Jenny breathed a sigh of relief, whether she believed me or not, I paid the rest of the fee, and skipped out of there.
My throwing star has been sitting on my desk these past couple of weeks and I couldn't decide what to do with it. Then, in a brain fart of genius, I decided exactly where it should go.....
Advertisement
Tot: 0.215s; Tpl: 0.011s; cc: 6; qc: 56; dbt: 0.1003s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb
Trish
non-member comment
Well
It was Mary that reminded me, but whatever, I'll take the credit! I was trying to tell your tiffany goes to the dentist story at a fancy big-wig dinner and I was laughing hysterically as I'm telling of only to look around and see 'I don't get it' faces. How can anyone not think it's funny?! I've decided I hate them. Pink dentist! LOL