I just got back from the dentist having had a crown put in
and a filling replaced. I am not a fan
of going to the dentist. I take that
back, I love my dentist but I loathe everything about what happens in his
office. He became my dentist after I had the worst crown experience you could
possibly have (except possibly swallowing it and having to reuse the same
crown).
It all started when my dentist of 30 years retired while I
was dating my wife Nita. I asked if she
had someone she liked and she told me about her dentist. I went to go see him for my cleaning and he
informed me that I needed a crown. Okay,
no problem, just gas me. Well he
did. I went in and he did the required
drilling, stuffed my gum line with floss, and sent me home with my temporary
crown. At the time I was an account
executive and my territory included the North East. So, three days later I was on a plane to
Boston. I don’t know if it was the altitude,
pressure, or what, but my crown popped out on the flight from DFW to
Boston. I called the dentist office and
was informed that since I couldn’t return immediately to get it re-cemented I
should just to get some Vaseline to pack the temporary and push it back in.
Now picture the single traveler checking into his hotel
asking the nice young desk clerk where he could acquire some Vaseline. I’m pretty sure she wasn’t buying the “it’s
for my tooth” story. To avoid swallowing
it, I was also advised to take it out each time I ate. Which of course is awesome when you are
having lunch or dinner with customers.
So the rest of my week goes like this and I hop on my flight for home
Thursday afternoon. I was executive
platinum on American Airlines back which means you are almost always
upgraded. Also if you remember or flew a
lot in the mid-2000s they still served decent scotch up front. So I drank both of the Glenlivits and ordered
a crown and diet. At this point I’m
still miserable/annoyed and order another…and then another. The flight attendant politely tells me that
there are no more crowns with a very judgmental look about her. At this point I remove my tooth and tell her
my story. “Jack Daniels be okay Mr.
Martinez?”
So I get back to my former dentist. And as he pops it back
in. A week or so later my permanent crown
comes in. As he’s fitting it, he breaks
it. So we put the temp back on and order
a new one. Two more weeks and he’s putting
the newest one on when my mouth is now inflamed. He sends me to another guy who states I now
need a root canal. So I get the root
canal. I then get the new perm reseated
and it doesn’t fit correctly. My bite is
off. Now we already know I don’t like
going in a building in which a dentist resides, much less all this nonsense for
the same tooth. I’ve already fired this
guy but didn’t want to go to a new dentist and have to pay all over again.
As luck would have it, while complaining about this whole
thing in my golf club someone informs me that one of the members is a dentist
and has an office just around the corner.
So I go see my new dentist and friend Daren Evans. He sees the bad crown and says he’ll help
me. I think he even got the other
dentist to pop for it. In any case, he
has been my dentist for about ten years and is a pretty good dude, even though
my mouth is throbbing right now. And
since I’m currently not among the employed… Gentleman Jack should be just fine
for Mr. Martinez.
