Faithful readers already know I am not the biggest fan of dentists. Last year in August I had an urgent problem, and my regular Spanish dental office apparently was closed all of August, without any information on what to do if I had an urgent problem, not on their voice mail and not on their website (which by the way was so broken that it scaled the flash animation to 10% of the page width, but I digress).
I ended up in the emergency dental office on Passeig de Gracia, and there I was helped very well by a very good young doctor. I felt I finally found the perfect dentist.
That is, up to the point where I got an infection on one of my teeth, and she told me it would cost anywhere between 2000 and 4000 euro to get the tooth pulled and a bridge or an implant made, and that it wasn’t covered by my health care.
I guess that’s when I decided to be stupid and try and get it fixed in Belgium. And for that I needed to make sure my health insurance was still ok in Belgium, and for that I needed some E-three-digit form that I still don’t have my hands on after 9 months.
When last month the left part of my body started feeling strange I thought it was time to just go find a dentist and get it fixed, coverage or no.
My wishes for a dentist are pretty simple. It has to be a woman (from my experience I find they are usually more emphatical), I prefer them relatively young (I have this vague hope that they are more likely to be up-to-date with the latest technology) and it helps if they speak my language. Now that I live here in Brussels though, of course most dentists are French. And probably not that easy to get to.
So in the end I found a website that lists dentists in all zip codes. And since I live just on the border with Wemmel, a mostly Flemish community, I thought I’d try my luck there. I found a female doctor with a Flemish name and an email address, which hopefully indicates she’s hip to the times. (Yeah so discrimination is not a problem for me when it comes to dentists - take it up with my teeth).
So, two weeks ago I called up a new dentist for a practice run. It was a bit strange. She was appointment-only. I asked her:
‘When can I come ? I know next week may be a bit soon, but …’
‘No, next week is OK.’ Pause.
‘OK, so which day next week ?’
‘Any day is fine.’ Ok, so you have an empty agenda ? Huh.
‘Ok, how about next Monday ?’.
‘Yes, next Monday works.’ Pause.
‘Uh, ok, so at what time ?’
‘I have some room at 15.00′
‘OK, see you then.’ Click.
I got there on time, and she made me wait 40 minutes in a cold underground waiting room with TL lighting smelling of mold. At least there were comics.
She was surprised I’ve been walking around with this infection for the last 8 months. It didn’t matter that it didn’t actually hurt. And apparently in Belgium they don’t cover this kind of operation either, so the 9 months of waiting was a waste.
It got slightly better after that, I guess, but I still wasn’t planning on going back for a second visit. The problem is dentists always figure me out in the first visit, and slap me a second appointment immediately, to which they know I cannot say no. I’m sorry doctor Prados from Barcelona, I really liked you better. My new dentist prescribed me some antibiotics and sent me on my way.
Anyway, today was the second visit, the one where she pulled out my tooth. As dentists are wont to do, she lied about what she was actually doing (”I’m just feeling where it’s going to hurt when I pull” - oh really, then why did a big chunk of tooth just break off ???) But we at least had a decent conversation while waiting for the anaesthesia to kick in, and she noticed and actually liked my shoes. Or at least, I think - she said her son would probably wear the same if he knew.
In the end it was a reasonably painless experience, the tooth was in fact pretty damn brown, and there was a huge sack of puss hanging from it. It almost felt OK. And she gave me reasonable answers to all my questions.
It got weird again towards the end though - I asked:
‘How long do I keep the cotton wool in my mouth ?’
‘Oh, ten minutes.’
‘Ok, so what if is still bleeding then ?’
‘Oh, right, I’ll give you some extra.’ She takes some from a bowl and puts them in my hand.
‘Uh. I thought the point of me taking antibiotics for a week was to kill bacteria. Am I not going to get new ones if I just stuff these in my pocket ?’
‘Oh, right. Well, here’s a plastic cup, put them in there.’
O. kay. See you in two weeks.
And I just know I’ll be going around for a nice series of five or so visits again…