Cracking a tooth on a frozen Opal Fruit (Starburst for anyone in their teens) caused me yet another visit to the dentist last week. Actually, I had three visits; the first time the dentist was sick and only the hygienist looked at it. The second time there was a gas leak at the dentist, so my dentist had a look at it in reception and told me to come back when the gas had gone away. The third time I went I actually got the work done and my tooth is now fixed up and ready to chew for another few years.
It’s come to annoy me that I’ve been to the dentist hell of a lot over the last few months, having finally lost the plot with the teeth on my lower left side being extremely sensitive I decided to go get them sorted out before xmas. I ended up needing root canal in two of them, which was lovely, and over the course of four appointments either side of the festive period it cost me upwards of ?200.
So there I was, back again only two months later, with my dentist commenting that I’d become a real regular since he took over from my old dentist.
“Tell me about it,” I said “I should be invited to the christmas party.”
“Absolutely,” the smug fucker replied, “you’ve probably paid for the christmas party by now.”
I think that might have been a rookie dentist faux pas, as I cant imagine it’s good practice to remind people how much you’re going to skin them for half an hour’s work/mindless banter with the hygienist.
Anyhow, pain in jaw and wallet in hand, I made my way to reception to pay Marie the ?60 for the Opal Fruit repair. The fact that I knew the name of one of the many receptionists/hygienists brought further ridicule on my situation. You should never be attending the dentist often enough to be on first name terms with them, and certainly not to the point where they’re comfortable enough to say “See you, Rob” as you bid them goodbye.
Hopefully they wont be seeing me any time soon – I’m not going to go eating frozen Opal Fruits again in a hurry, put it that way.