In February I had a toothache during a retreat out on the island. Got home on a Tuesday...
On Thursday I went to the twice-a-week-comes-from- the-big-city dentist. She was nice and took an x-ray but said that it looked complicated and root canal-ish. Told me to go to the "root canal" dentist that only comes on Thursdays and Fridays. She told me to take the name of a good pain killer. It was too late to go right then...
On Friday morning I called the "root canal" dentist only to be told that their schedule was full with no available appointments until March. My husband called them back and convinced the secretary to see me quickly for an evaluation in the late afternoon. I took my x-ray from the day before. The dentist saw me after an hour and a half wait for five minutes only to tell me that she could only do any work in March.
On Saturday I called a friend in the big city, who called his family's dentist. The big city dentist would see me to alleviate the pain and see what was what on Tuesday, one week after I got home from the retreat with a hurting tooth. Thank goodness for cloves and tylenol.
On Tuesday I went to see the dentist in the city. I was well attended and the tooth in question was x-rayed again and opened up. The dentist cleaned it all out and closed it back up. Told me to come back the next week - same time, same place - to start a series of 3 - 4 visits. Ugh! Three to four visits, once a week? Yes, it was for a root canal after all.
Next Thursday I went again. X-ray machine broke with a wonderful, whining sound as the dentist took one more x-ray before drilling away on my hurt tooth. Beautiful. He drilled anyway but said he couldn't finish until the machine was fixed and had no idea when that would be. They'd call me.
Next Thursday (three weeks from my first trip to a dentist here in our little town) I was off to the city again (by bus) after receiving a call from the dentist office. On the phone the secretary/dental assistant said something to the effect of "maybe he can get it all done and this will be your last visit." More drilling. Not done. Come back. Yeah.
Next Thursday (four weeks) at my scheduled time I just couldn't make it. I had to shop for a retreat out on the island, so I called ahead to cancel and reset the time for the next week (five weeks). The dear dental assistant person said, "Oooo, the dentist will be out of the office all week next week. We'll call you."
Tuesday (six weeks) I went off to the dentist again. This time I went by bus again with the high hopes of never going back (again). Hmm-mmm. Drill, baby, drill. The secretary scheduled my "real" last visit for the next week. I did a little depression shopping afterwards at the local mall.
Seven weeks later on a Tuesday and now in the month of April I went in by car with some neighbors who work in town for my last appointment to cap off my newly rooted out tooth.
Now when was it that first dentist wanted me to come?
p.s. I can be super thankful for two "anonymous" donors
who gave funds to help pay for my dental saga.