An Impromptu Visit to the Dentist!

It's not always straight forward when you help replace a large and lengthy timber dividing fence between your neighbour and yourself. Apart from the aches and pains occurred in the evening after hours of back-breaking work, the loss of half a tooth can result in another trip to the dentist.
     It could be considered fortunate that after an immediate phone call, a prompt appointment was hereby made.  By something feeling as if it was stuck amidst some bottom teeth, the tongue not only loosened the offending object, but so too half a bottom tooth, much to my annoyance and inconvenience. It was definitely not the right moment for this to happen.
     While continuing with the fence that day, the broken piece of tooth was placed carefully onto the floor inside the back sliding door of my kitchen for safe-keeping - just in case the dentist needed to refer to it. But alas, before it could be wrapped and taken for his perusal, it was vacuumed up in a frenzy of floor cleaning.
     After the first section of fencing was completed, a hasty trip to the dentist was executed. Feeling a bit guilty and not at all helpful, I explained about the broken half of tooth going AWOL before it could be scrutinized, but then rejoiced in the fact he happily waved that aside, as if to no avail with the problem at hand. What to do about the severe loss of tooth and the gaping cavity it left, looking a bit like 'the black hole of Calcutta', as we once referred to such things. 
     The young and very efficient Asian dentist looked into my mouth with a deep scowl to his forehead. 'Hmm...' he mumbled. He repeated the same troubling expletive as he shifted into several different positions to make quite sure of himself before delivering an earth shattering, or should I say bank-balance-depleting suggestion and to some  extent something resembling a perfect reason for an acute heart attack! 
     'Hmm... well... I think...'
     Did I want to hear what was coming? I think not, but listen I did, my hands clenched tightly together. I held my nerve for what was to be forthcoming.
     All I could do was hope and pray it wasn't going to cost an arm and a leg. He worked upwards to that, beginning with some sort of suggestion of a filling, then anchoring a post and a crown to follow. That alone would be A$1600 and here's me thinking $800 would be rather a lot to fork out. The idea of a filling began manifesting itself more and more in my brain. Even if it was possible to anchor a post...it would be expensive. Next he uttered the suggestion of an implant, not holding back for a moment of the cost it would incur.  I went a little strange at that moment, my legs turning to jelly at what was to come, and moaned while my mouth was still wide open. Perhaps he got the message. I knew full well implants don't come cheap, even if you  do have private medical and dental insurance. There are always out-of-pocket expenses to consider that could be perfectly within my budget. But an implant? He had no hesitation in informing me that one such item would be A$5000, and that's not for a mouthful of beautiful gleaming teeth, but a measly bottom side tooth. Did he realize I could buy a very expensive camera for that? Or even a decent lens or two, for my existing one. I could even enjoy a fancy cruise to the Caribbean , if I was that way inclined.
     After I recovered from the shock, I asked the young dentist if he could merely fill the offending tooth. 'I'll try', he answered, looking slightly hopeful. My heartbeats thus returned to some form of normality, hands relaxing slightly after being clenched throughout the 'preliminary' consultation.
     Putting my smile, for what that was worth, entirely in his hands, I gripped my hands together again, as he began the rebuilding, and in a clench that would have put a world prize fighter to shame.
     He set about administering many different substances, with a variety of sharp-looking instruments, with a lively conversation carried out above me, between his young female assistant and himself. My eyes dashed from one to the other, in the hope they hadn't become completely engrossed in last night's supper with friends at a well known restaurant.  How they could concentrate on such a flourishing rebuilding of a tooth, being a delicate operation and chatting about everything from last night's outing to the price of wine, while constantly passing different instruments to and fro, was beyond me. 
     'No, not that one,' he said patiently to his assistant at one stage. 'Cure!' 
     This was a pencil type thing that is placed against the filling with an ultraviolet light, then bleeps when the next bit of filling has hardened in a matter of seconds, or so it appeared. This was repeated several times.
     In the meantime, I noticed a large flat screen television set high and to one side of the room. The equipment was nothing like it used to be. My mind instantly went back to the days living in England. Visiting the dentist thirty years ago, in a lovely coastal village-type town in Dorset, things were very different. The building for one thing, was an old frontal type semi-detached house on the main street, leading down to the sea not far away. The rooms were on the first floor and large, with high fancy ceilings. There were always pleasant things to gaze at while your mouth was wide open, cotton wool pads stuck deeply into a cheek or two, definitely no television, but rather interesting enlarged photos of yachts racing, mounted on the walls. It was easy to invite a one-sided conversation. This particular dentist was keen on his sailing, even inviting me to crew for him at one time. Alas, I was always too busy in those days, which I now regret. Nothing would have been more exhilarating than being out on Lyme Bay, the wind through your hair, sea sparkling and the boat lifting and dipping in a heavy swell. The only other lifetime experience I compared this with, was riding my horse over hills and into valleys, through and over gates and paddling along streams. Those days have gone for good, but never the memories. They will remain with me forever.
     Soon after the delicate operation came to an end, I took off the dark glasses provided, peered into the mirror, and was utterly astonished at the dentist's ability to build a whole new tooth in the manner he did. It looked perfect, just like a tooth should look - the correct shape and size that fitted with others on the other side. It was even nicely polished and gleaming. I was delighted and congratulated him upon such an achievement. Needless to say, when I went to pay, was informed he would be no longer at that practice from the end of the month. Perhaps the grass was greener elsewhere. My heart sank once again. But soon his wife would take on the position. At least further treatments would be kept in the family and I was assured she was every bit as competent. Could she ever step into her husband's shoes, I wondered? Only time would tell.