My Trip to the Endodontist 

A True Story 

 

My spidey senses started tingling when he answered the phone in his office.  I was calling to make an appointment for a root canal.  It was in the afternoon, and I rationalized that maybe, maybe his receptionist was on a break.  The consultation appointment was made for Friday, June the first.

    
Several weeks prior, at my beloved general dentist’s office I am told that I will need the dreaded dental work, and I’m given the name of a highly recommend endodontist.  Off I go to check my insurance plan. Only one endodontist is on the list, and it is not the one recommended to me.  What?  I call the insurance company and they tell me that I have to pay “out of network” fees to see the recommended doc. 
    
“But there is only one to choose from!” I cry.  

“Yes, that’s correct.  Greed is the explanation,” the insurance lady replies.  “The doctors just refuse to lower their fees.  Greed.”  

So I called Dr. Doe from the list.
    
It is Friday, June 1.  I find the office in a reputable office building.  I go into the office of Dr. Doe.
    
There he is, alone behind the reception desk rustling papers.  He’s an elderly guy.  There is another person in the office, an elderly African American woman who pedals slowly toward me with the clipboard handed to her by the doctor.  She moves unsteadily, I think, like maybe she has recently had a stroke?  I am feeling wary, but I am open- minded, I think, and he is, after all, on the insurance plan. 
    
Dr. Doe ushers me into the exam room and he tells “Ceecee” to put the lead apron on me as he walks out.  “The apron is awfully heavy, isn’t it?” I say to Ceecee.  She giggles and says something I cannot understand as she lays the apron over me.  That’s when I notice the equipment.  I haven’t seen that color green on an appliance since 1970.  This stuff looks old. The doctor takes the X rays and leaves.  He comes back, this time carrying a digital kitchen timer like the kind I use in school for time out.   He examines my swollen gums. Beep! Beep! Beep!  He goes to get the film. 
    
Now I am really feeling nervous.  Ceecee says something like, “You knit?”
     
“Do I Knit?”
    
“Mmmhuh. “
   
“Yes, I carry it with me when I have to wait for appointments.  Do you knit?” She is sweet, I say to myself to calm my nerves.
    
Then Ceecee moves around toward me and says something like “No, but I like to crochet little things.”  I look over at her and see her face real close.  Nubs for teeth.  Brown nubs.  Oh my god.  The dental assistant has no teeth? Then Dr. Death comes back.  “Its worse than I thought.  I will need to cut through your bridge to get to this tooth.  I don’t think I can do this today.  I’ll look at my schedule and see if we can do this Monday.  Let’s see, is 1 o’clock alright?”
    
“Sure.”
    
Reprieve!  Praise God!  I can get out of here before he suspects I know he really wants to kill me. 
    
I leave that place and call the insurance company and Dr. Beloved Dentist at home on his day off.