Une Visite Chez Dentiste

So, I have this tooth. Well, more than one of course, but I have this particular tooth that has been giving me problems. Incredible pain (wake you up at night pain) and sensitivity to cold. The pain lasted about a week the first time (a couple months ago) and then subsided and went away. So, I of course forgot all about it, even though I had a recommendation for a dentist in Paris about a five minute walk from the apartment.

Pain is one hell of a motivator. When it’s gone, it motivates me to never go to the dentist. When it’s there, I’ll bear any dentist-induced pain to make the tooth pain stop! It was the latter this time. I called and made an appointment (Totalement en français! Très bien!) at the peak of my pain, so I was committed now.

The morning of my appointment arrives and I walk to the dentist’s office. It’s a sunny, not too cold spring morning, and when I’m almost there I suddenly realize that this is Paris and that the office is probably in a residential building and I may need door codes to get in. So, I’m walking there thinking how I pose this in French if I need to call and thinking, “Crap, numbers!” Very hard to understand depending on the number and how they say them (Some other time for my rant on why the French don’t have any numbers beyond 69). But my fears are for naught, as the door opens with a simple push of the button and no code is needed.

I find the office and get put in the salle d’attente, where I sit for a while until someone comes in and asks me if this is my first visit (oui!) and if I could fill out an info form (some things are the same everywhere). So I fill it out, but the one thing that is never asked for is any kind of insurance info. Imagine!

After a short wait, the actual dentist comes in to get me and show me to the exam room. He asks me something in French and I have to break down and give the old, “Desolé, je ne parle pas bien français.” I mean, I could struggle by, but this is too detailed and I really need to understand and be understood without taking six hours. Of course, I already know that he speaks English very well and he is German, so he isn’t going to give me a hard time about it.

So we make some small talk and then we discuss general dental stuff, like how long has it been since I last saw a dentist, my last cleaning, do I floss regularly (uhhhh) etc. He recommends that I continue to get twice-yearly cleanings like I did in the US, and that there are two dentists in his office that do cleanings. He told me an interesting thing; only dentists can touch patients in France. There is no such position as a dental hygienist as we know it in the US. But they have a staff dentist who does cleanings. I’ve had the dentist clean my teeth in the US, but that was a rarity. You usually get your cleaning from the hygienist, and then the dentist sees you for maybe 10 minutes (unless you are actually getting work done).

But no cleaning today, it is all business! He asks what the problem is and I tell him about the tooth. He takes x-rays, and I immediately notice something is missing. There is no heavy weight on my chest. No trouble breathing. OMG! NO LEAD APRON! I’M GONNA DIE! No, I didn’t panic. I mean, what good does that lead apron do anyway when they’re aiming the zoomies DIRECTLY AT YOUR BRAIN? Or at least near your brain. “Hey doc, can you shoot one at my nuts? I don’t want to get a vasectomy!”

With the x-rays developed, it’s bidness time. He says that he doesn’t see any problems with the tooth in the xray, but there could be a new cavity under the filling since the filling is old (10, 15 years?). But he wants to be sure it’s the tooth I think it is (Top left molar, second from the back).

“I’m sorry, but I will need to test it using something cold.”

Oh, god. This will suck.

He sprays a steel dental instrument with something that makes it really goddam cold. Then he places it on my t-

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yep. That’s the bad one, alright.

I hope he can get those fingernail holes in the armrest fixed.

With that established, he informs me that he had a cancellation that morning and has plenty of time to inflict more pain on me. Part of me says, “Yeah. Let’s get it taken care of now!” and another part says, “Let’s make an appointment for later and never come back!”

But the still-lingering pain from the frigid tool of death is telling me to fix it. NOW! So I tell him to go ahead and start. Here comes the needle! Didn’t feel anything though. Then the wait.

The thing I hate about dental work on my upper teeth is that my mouth doesn’t get that totally numb feeling like it does when they do the bottom. This always makes me nervous. I’m just waiting for that flash of sudden, extreme pain! SO much fun, but it didn’t come. I did get a “booster” when I flinched at one point. Then he was using a laser to do something and I said I felt a little pain on the gums, and before I could say that it wasn’t that bad, he stuck another one in the roof of my mouth. That made me flinch, thinking back to my wisdom teeth extraction, which was the only other time I had a shot on the inside of the teeth. But it didn’t hurt, and the rest of the procedure continued painlessly.

Now I have a temporary and another appointment to put in the inlay. He doesn’t do amalgam fillings, which is just as well. This is the second time for replacing this filling and a more permanent solution is desirable.

At one point he asked me how long ago the filling had been replaced and, while I was thinking about it, I must have made strange face because he asked, “Are you OK?” I guess he has had people pass out on him before.

Well, enough reminiscing about the joys of the dentist’s office! Off to buy more floss!

Update: Well, this story did NOT have a happy ending! I got the inlay laid in, but the tooth remained sensitive to hot & cold. He said it could take up to six months for the nerve get back to normal since the cavity was so deep. It never did. It finally went down in a ball of flame after keeping me up all night in pain. Yep, my first root canal! Yay!

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