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Abstract

tist Terror</h2>You want scary? I am TERRIFIED of dentists. Maybe it’s because I had one as a child that never used Novocain and seemed to think that all my teeth had cavities (I think it was more because he wanted the income). I literally shake when I’m in the dentist’s seat.I speak French, but I’m not fluent, and I’m certainly not fluent in dentistry French. Somehow — maybe through the luck of Casper, the friendly ghost? I found a next day appointment with a dentist who spoke French, Arabic, English, and Spanish. English was quite sufficient.The hours felt like days as I waited til the time when I could finally hop on the metro to reach his office. And oh, yes — he found major infection in my gum. So my appointment consisted of draining the horrid infection that had gone from the molar into my gum.This dentist was great. Kind, thorough, highly knowledgeable. Still, I had to fight from crying as I was terrified of what I knew was to come.Lots of Novocain — good! And the inevitable gross pressing out of the poisonous pus that had accumulated in my gum as a result of a root canal gone awry after many years. The dentist put it this way: You know how magnum sits in the bottom of a volcano for years and then it finally erupts? That’s what we have here.Yuk.Next fright: Last day of Paris fashion week, and the crowds on the Champs-Elysees were horrific (yes, his office had to be a few minutes‘ walk from that crazy busy street). The street that Google maps wanted me to take was cordoned off by police officers. To top it off, we had protesters that threw orange paint on the showcase windows of Louis Vuitton. NEVER a dul

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l moment in Paris!<figure id="c223"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*eFkKU2ahKZCtI4fU6NBg8A.jpeg"><figcaption></figcaption></figure>Loaded up with painkillers and an antibiotic, I made my way back to my apartment, at least relieved of the throbbing pain caused by the evil mess that had accumulated in my gum from the infection.<h2 id="38f2">Fright Night Friday</h2>Next adventure — an appointment at a radiology clinic where I lay in a machine that reminded me of an MRI. I have never seen anything so advanced in Florida. In the US, you usually have to wait to have your results read by a specialist. Not here. Ten minutes later, the radiologist was explaining the scary results — major mess, basically. Get this molar pulled asap.And so, a week later — Friday the 13th, of all days — there I was with a 2 1/2 hour dental surgery. If only I could have been put out! I have to say, my dentist in Paris is fantastic, and I never felt a thing. But still, those hours of listening to the drilling, cracking of the tooth, smelling the burning, feeling the pressing of the bone graft — scary.More scary? Let’s just think about the cost of these procedures. I’m trying to retire in two years and have myself on a strict budget that really didn’t have space for a $3000+ new work of art in my mouth. My international insurance will cover$ 1000. Grateful, but it’s not even a third.Ah, so not nearly the great scary Halloween story we’re looking for, I know. But scary as hell for me! And at yesterday’s appointment he showed me three more issues that my FL dentist has ignored. Wonderful.Happy Halloween!</article></body>

Seriously, What’s More Scary than Dental Procedures?

I know one of the pubs I write for had an October “scary” writing challenge, but I can’t find it!

I figured I didn’t have anything for October. Since I was a kid, and since my kids were kids (both a long time ago!), I haven’t really gotten into Halloween. I hate those nasty slice and dice films like Halloween (Charlie Brown’s It’s the Great Pumpkin is much more my speed).

So I figured, ah well! There’s always November!

Then, the day before October, I started to get a bit of a pain in my left lower jaw. I went to a dance party, and, well, was hardly the life of that party. Walking back to my apartment along the Seine (in Paris, where I live part-time) with friends, I told them I was feeling a bit off.

Come Sunday, I managed a brunch with a friend, but cancelled dinner with another, choosing a meal of soup. The jaw was getting bigger.

By 4am, I decided it was useless to stay in bed — too much pain for sleep. So there I was, middle of the night, searching “DoctoLib” (the French way to find doctors) online for any possible appointment with a dentist on Monday.

Dentist Terror

You want scary? I am TERRIFIED of dentists. Maybe it’s because I had one as a child that never used Novocain and seemed to think that all my teeth had cavities (I think it was more because he wanted the income). I literally shake when I’m in the dentist’s seat.

I speak French, but I’m not fluent, and I’m certainly not fluent in dentistry French. Somehow — maybe through the luck of Casper, the friendly ghost? I found a next day appointment with a dentist who spoke French, Arabic, English, and Spanish. English was quite sufficient.

The hours felt like days as I waited til the time when I could finally hop on the metro to reach his office. And oh, yes — he found major infection in my gum. So my appointment consisted of draining the horrid infection that had gone from the molar into my gum.

This dentist was great. Kind, thorough, highly knowledgeable. Still, I had to fight from crying as I was terrified of what I knew was to come.

Lots of Novocain — good! And the inevitable gross pressing out of the poisonous pus that had accumulated in my gum as a result of a root canal gone awry after many years. The dentist put it this way: You know how magnum sits in the bottom of a volcano for years and then it finally erupts? That’s what we have here.

Yuk.

Next fright: Last day of Paris fashion week, and the crowds on the Champs-Elysees were horrific (yes, his office had to be a few minutes‘ walk from that crazy busy street). The street that Google maps wanted me to take was cordoned off by police officers. To top it off, we had protesters that threw orange paint on the showcase windows of Louis Vuitton. NEVER a dull moment in Paris!

Loaded up with painkillers and an antibiotic, I made my way back to my apartment, at least relieved of the throbbing pain caused by the evil mess that had accumulated in my gum from the infection.

Fright Night Friday

Next adventure — an appointment at a radiology clinic where I lay in a machine that reminded me of an MRI. I have never seen anything so advanced in Florida. In the US, you usually have to wait to have your results read by a specialist. Not here. Ten minutes later, the radiologist was explaining the scary results — major mess, basically. Get this molar pulled asap.

And so, a week later — Friday the 13th, of all days — there I was with a 2 1/2 hour dental surgery. If only I could have been put out! I have to say, my dentist in Paris is fantastic, and I never felt a thing. But still, those hours of listening to the drilling, cracking of the tooth, smelling the burning, feeling the pressing of the bone graft — scary.

More scary? Let’s just think about the cost of these procedures. I’m trying to retire in two years and have myself on a strict budget that really didn’t have space for a $3000+ new work of art in my mouth. My international insurance will cover $1000. Grateful, but it’s not even a third.

Ah, so not nearly the great scary Halloween story we’re looking for, I know. But scary as hell for me! And at yesterday’s appointment he showed me three more issues that my FL dentist has ignored. Wonderful.

Happy Halloween!