While recent online experiences have been grand, face to face is proving unpleasant.
Two weeks ago I chipped a filling while eating a bit fat peppermint. Felt uneven but no pain.
On Monday morning after a sleepless night I visited not-my-usual dentist. It started off badly with a misunderstanding about where I was supposed to go, strayed into his being dissmissive of my peridontist, quibbling about when I had had my last check-up and shoving the xray slides into my mouth without telling me he was doing a check-up or asking if that was what I wanted. When I demurred in the nicest possible way (try it with xray slides in your mouth) he said “what’s your problem.”
I snapped that he should have at least asked me. He told me that the filling was a cheap one and that the cost of the check-up was less since I was already in a consulation. Perhaps he could have told me that before shoving the xray things in my mouth?
We continued on in silence, clearly both realising that any more conversation would just become increasingly antagonistic.
He fixed my chipped tooth and sent me on my way.
The trouble is, that like a doctor I had 30 years ago (and boy is THAT a story) it wasn’t his communciation skills that was the worst of it all. The filling has fallen out. I suspect I have an infected tooth. And the pain? Excrutiating.
Yes, I rang to complain. I have an appointment tomorrow, not with him.
Trouble is I was pain free before he started playing with my mouth.
Three days later: met with lovely female dentist who was soothing and nice. Antibiotics. Pain killers and wine.