Hobbit Feet and Toadstools

I have a new Dentist.  Not only is he absolutely adorable but he’s kind and more than just a little talented, too.  I don’t want to gush but he’s managed 2 miracles in the past month alone.  If he keeps this up, I’ll have to contact the Vatican and recommend Sainthood.

My problem is Dry Mouth, caused by nearly 10 years of pain medication that keeps me on my feet and not in a wheel chair.  I don’t eat candy all day long, I brush my teeth, floss and use mouthwash like every other responsible person but I have no spit.  At all.  No enzymes that kill bacteria.  It’s the Sahara Desert in there which leaves me with a surplus of cavities and a deficit of Dental Coverage.

The Dental Clinic that I had been supporting created a mess with revolving Dentists, inferior materials, no quality control and insane prices.  I have a filling in a molar that was installed in 1998 and it’s pristine while every filling that was installed at this clinic lasted less than a year.  After I spent a month on IV and oral Antibiotics I finally said, “Fuck this shit!!” and started looking around for a decent Dental Clinic.

Oddly enough, it was my Hair Guru that recommended the Montgomery Dental Centre .  I had nothing to lose really; that infected tooth had to be dealt with if I wanted to avoid more antibiotics.

So, I called them and made an appointment.  I was expecting Dental Shaming at a bare minimum and perhaps flagrant condescension.  What I didn’t expect was Dr. Manu Dua, DMD or the sweet women that greeted me, prepped me and kept me calm.

Dr. Dua – okay, wait.  I can’t call him Dr. Dua all the time, it’s bulky and awkward and I’m old enough to be his mother.  I understand that he’s a very talented man who spent a lot of time and money being educated and I want to show my respect for that education but can I salute him or curtsy or something and then just call him Dua?  I’m going to ask about that at my next appointment.

Anyway, Dua arrived in my cubicle wearing a face mask and snapping his plastic gloves.  He poked and prodded around in my mouth with several sharp instruments he ordered from The Tower of London.  He started tap, tapping here and tap, tapping there like my mouth was a xylophone and he was playing Everybody was Kung Fu Fighting.  “Does this hurt?  How about this?”  After a lengthy examination, he pulled down his mask and said, “Yeah, I can fix this.”

The confidence in this one is strong.  I like it!  I was worried he would pull all my teeth and send me for dentures, which is one of my worst nightmares.  Your whole face collapses and you suddenly look like Whistler’s Mother even if you’re still in your teens – which I’m not.

He said, “Begone!  Come back in two days” at which time he would do Dua Magic.  And he did!  He built an entire eye tooth out of fairy dust and sunshine!  It’s brilliant!  I stop and look at it in the mirror a couple of times a day, turning this way and that so the light shines on it.  Even better?  He called me a couple days later to ask how my Magic Tooth was doing!  In my excitement I accidentally said, “I love you.” Which I do but maybe he was creeped out.  It’s a totally platonic love, Dua.  No need to move to another city and change your name.

He tackled the infected Asshole Molar right after Christmas.  He drilled it out and cleaned out the infection, gave it a stern talking-to, then filled it with some temporary stuff – probably toadstools and Hobbit feet – so it will hold until my Dental Coverage kicks in again in April.  That’s when the Dua Plan kicks in.  He knows exactly which tooth will receive the Dua Magic next, and I find that comforting.  Also, he called me a couple days later to check up on my Hobbit Tooth, which is wonderful.  I managed, in the nick of time, to keep my affections to myself.  And it wasn’t easy, Dua.

So, now I’m working on a dental clinic VooDoo doll (for the old clinic) which is harder than you would think because where do you jab the pin?  I could jab the receptionist but unless she’s the actual owner of the clinic it wouldn’t be fair.  And I don’t want to jab the Dental Assistants because they, like Nazi soldiers, were only following orders.  So where does that leave me?  They have rotated at least 5 Dentists through that clinic in the past 5 years and I can’t remember them all.

Well, I suppose I’ll just send special wishes to Universe regarding the old clinic.  I’m not too bitter, but I’m still annoyed enough to take reasonably aggressive action.  Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t risk messing with Universe because that can easily backfire.  Waiting for Karma can be a lengthy proposition, though.

PS:  Don’t even think about relocating, Dua.  It takes no time at all to make a VooDoo doll for you.

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