n. – dentist
I went to my first French dentist the other day. My teeth are one of my strong points, healthy and virtually cavity free. They’re also nice and straight thanks to two years of braces that included the works, rubber bands, headgear, retainer and all. I try to take good care of them by going to the dentist at least twice a year and flossing reluctantly.
I love having clean teeth, but I really dread having them cleaned. I remember when they used to do it manually with the sharp metal tools. Now they do it with the machine. I think it works with some sort of laser or beam that’s hot which is why it’s accompanied by the spray of water. I worry about many things. I worry first and foremost that they will hit a nerve (it’s happened since my gums are very sensitive). Then I worry that I will jump and somehow the water mechanism will stop working and I will be burned by whatever the other thing is that actually cleans the teeth. I don’t worry too much about choking although there’s always a huge back up of water in the back of my mouth despite the tube that’s supposed to suck all the water out of your mouth.
Generally, I just am not happy until it’s over. In New York, because I had been going to same dentist for years and he knew me, I was allowed to hum along while he worked. I don’t know why, but the sound of my voice making music soothed me and sometimes he would hum along with me. I couldn’t hum here with a strange Parisian dentist who doesn’t know me. And because I don’t know her either, I wasn’t sure if she would be careful and avoid the sensitive spots. So by the end of the experience, I was a wreck.
My teeth were clean, I had no cavities so all was well and then she said this. “Vous avez tres beaux dents, c’est dommage ils sont jaune.” You have really pretty teeth, it’s too bad they’re yellow. Seriously?! I know they’re not appliance white, but they’re teeth, not paper. Her office on the other hand looked like it had been blanketed in snow - white walls, white furniture, white lab coat. No wonder my teeth looked yellow by comparison. She kept staring at them shaking her head. “Allez voir dans le miroire.” Go look in the mirror, she said, as if I’ve never seen my teeth before.
People have always told me I have a nice smile, so it never occurred to me that my teeth were yellow, but she was starting to wear me down. So I asked her how much it cost. “Neuf cent euros.” I had to repeat it to make sure I understood – 900 euros!! And because it’s a cosmetic procedure, nothing is reimbursed by insurance. Then she tells me it could be a little painful given my sensitive gums, but it should go away in a few days. So it’s hideously expensive and slightly painful. I was now feeling less persuaded. But because I don’t like confrontations, I agreed to make an appointment for the procedure the following week. I spent the next few days staring at my teeth and finally mustered up the courage to call and cancel the appointment. My teeth may not be the color of my refrigerator, but they suit me just fine. Merci!
