This all began some time ago when I noticed that my remaining teeth were looking.uh, worn. Maybe "war torn" is a better phrase. And, never mind the look of 'em, the nerve endings were getting closer and closer to the surface resulting in unpleasant "feedback" while eating.

The dentist made those "Hmmmm." noises when I'd go in for a cleaning. After the third time, and the third dentist in our little clinic, I finally asked the big question; "Well, wad-da-ya-think? Is there any hope?"

"Very expensive. Basically have to do your whole mouth."

"Are we talking pull them or cap 'em?"

"You could cap them"

"But that would cost about a thousand a tooth right?"

"'Fraid so."

"Know of any dental schools?"

"There's one in Phoenix."

"I'd have to take up residence to have time enough to get it all done though."

"Yep."

"How much do you think?"

(Dentists don't like to talk prices. It's some kind of professional "code" they won't violate.)

"I donno."

"Maybe 5000."

"Could be."

So I'm thinking five or six thousand to have a student experiment on, or in, my mouth.

..and trying to think of another solution. "Maybe they'll last!"..denial as a last resort.

Then I hear about dental work in Mexico. It's good. It's fast. It's cheap! So I call my friend-on-the-border. (El Paso)

"Washington Dental Clinic!" he says.

I get the 800 number and they fax the details. "Porcelain crowns.$200." caught my eye right away. And! you don't have to drive over. They pick you up and bring you back to the American side. I set up the appointment and showed up on the appointed day and am whisked away from a motel parking lot about 9 AM, along with a boatload of other bargain hunters; mostly "seniors", and we begin Assembly Line Dentistry!

The entry people, front desk and money folks, all speak English. The dentist(s) and their assistants do not.

Actually, my dentist, there are about twelve, does speak some English. He knows three phrases and they are: "Open!", "Bite!", and; "Relax!" I soon learn that the latter should prepare me for the (dreaded) needle.

It doesn't help much.

But all this comes later. First the exam. Through a translator I learn that I will need twelve crowns. I anticipate coming back several times when the translator says "The doctor will start now and we will make the temporaries today and tomorrow you will get the permanent crowns."

We're doing all twelve now? Well, being the kind of person who doesn't like putting things off.and a what-the-hell kind of guy.I say, "Let's do it!" How bad could it be after all? I've had all four wisdom teeth pulled at once, grinding down a few teeth into points can't be that bad.

"Relax!".and we're off.

Three hours later, with the whine of the drill firmly imbedded in my cellular memory, we're into the goop-in-the-mouth time. The home stretch. It hasn't been what I'd call easy, but not as bad as bleeding to death internally at the VA, which I got through two years ago.

The translator says, "We will have the temporaries in one hour." Having had to pee for the past twenty minutes I am happy for the respite so I can make it to "el bano" just in time.

In less than an hour I am called back in for the fitting. The doctor is not happy. The translator is called back in. He's also the clinic diplomat, "The doctor sees that by the impressions he needs to take a little more off the bottom teeth. Are you still numb?"

"Mostly." I manage to lisp through lips that felt like balloons and were not connected to any facial muscles I could control.

"On the bottom is more important."

"I think so too." I might have said if I could have said anything.

That steel-on-nerve-ends let me know that I wasn't nearly as numb as I would have liked, but my squirming didn't bother my dentist, "Relax!" he said as he ground away the remaining eighth of an inch or so.

OK, maybe it was only a sixteenth.

Then we were done and it was back to the goop and then the wait.and thenPop!

They fit!

I was ferried back to my car, still numb and still in a bit of a daze about all of it. It was about three in the afternoon.

Next Day: Picked up at the usual spot and arrived to the usual packed waiting room to get the permanent caps put in. A two-hour wait followed so I consumed several old Time magazines and saw part of "Gladiator" with all attendant gore flying about. Noted that I didn't want to see it again. Ushered into a new room with a red chair 'sted of yesterday's green, I was ready for the next and final installment. The good doctor, not needing "Relax!" this time, began installing each seed-like cap in place, one of which dropped in my mouth and, of course I fantasized about the possibilities of "temporary" loss but decided this was not a good thought to hold on to. However I was paying closer attention when he dropped the second one.

He didn't seem worried at all however and with all the uppers in place, seven of them, he put me in a headlock and said, in pretty good English I thought, "Bite down hard!" I did, and so did he.and I'm sure these caps will be the last part of me to fall apart.

The rest is history and I am a happy, smiling, recovered former dental patient who looks something like Wallace of "Wallace and Grommet" with a big, white cheese-eating grin.

"Not too bad." as we say in the Midwest, and the bill?

$2100.

Want the phone number?

Dick Prosapio ©2006, All Rights Reserved
  CoyoteCall@spinn.net