A Dentist - The Backstory

Okay, I feel like I owe you a little background on our decision to switch dentists.

A thousand years ago, when I lived in Chicago, I had a dentist I loved. This dentist worked out of the lobby of an apartment building. Her office was very small. She was her own receptionist, hygienist and obviously, dentist. She was on the young side, probably early 30s and was just starting out. She was so kind. I went to her in humiliation because I hadn’t seen a dentist in over ten years.

At my first appointment, she could sense my shame and told me to let it go. She said something along the lines of, “You’re here now. Don’t worry about the last ten year, think about the next ten.”

I loved her so much. She did so much work to my teeth and I don’t remember any sort of trauma involved.

Speaking of dental trauma: I saw the dentist a lot as a child. I had HORRIBLE baby teeth. They were just nasty. AND, because the universe can be cruel, I didn’t even lose my stupid, awful baby teeth until was eight and older. I was in second grade when I lost my first baby tooth. I remember being pissed about that.

So, this dentist fixed my teeth as well as she could and sent me to an orthodontist, which did wonders for my confidence.

When I moved out of Chicago, I saw my dentist for one last cleaning and she got my new address. Six months later, she sent me a post card asking if I’d found a new dentist because it was time for my next cleaning.

I picked a dentist that was close to my new job and started seeing him. He was fine. Dr. I was very gentle and I like the hygienist, Stephanie, who cleaned my teeth.

This was a comfortable situation that lasted about 18 years. I was happy enough with Dr. I’s care that I took Alyssa to see him when we moved to our current home. Olivia sees a pediatric dentist in Fort Wayne. They’re awesome in their own way.

One day, though, I showed up for my cleaning and found that Dr. I had sold his practice. There was a new dentist in town, Dr. H.

Dr. H could not have been more different from Dr. I. Dr. I was calm, quiet, gentle. He spoke barely above a whisper and was very aware of every move a patient made as he drilled away at her teeth.

Dr. H is loud, brash, aggressive in his treatment. I mean, okay, so he isn’t unaware of every flinch and is quick to offer another shot if you seem to be in pain but he was just so different from Dr. I.

And, get this, neither Dr. I nor Dr. H gave the staff at the practice any heads that the practice was changing hands.

Example, a couple of years ago, the dentist at the practice where I take Olivia decided to retire. Dr. Olinger was a well-respected pediatric dentist in the area. He is the first doctor of any kind to research Olivia’s syndrome before he met her. When he decided to retire, he brought in Dr. Ludwig and had him work in the office with Dr. Olinger for over six months before handing the practice over to him. This gave all the patients a chance to meet him and gave the staff a chance to get to know Dr. Ludwig too.

It felt like both Drs. I and H had gone about the changg-over in a sneaky, underhanded way.

I mean, what do I know? All I know is that the hygienists were surprised by the selling of the practice and the patients had no clue until their next appointment. It was just weird.

And it left a bad taste in my mouth. Well, that and the fact that Dr. H tried to charge all the patients who’d been at the practice for, well, ever, a new patient charge.

Hello! We’re not the new people here, Dude. Maybe we should be charging you a new doctor fee! I mean, he had everyone’s records, what the hell was he charging for, the meet and greet?

No.

And yet…I stayed for almost two years because I’m a creature of habit and I hate change. I stayed because I was loyal to Stephanie. I stayed because of inertia.

I stayed until I didn’t stay. I finally decided I was done. The last real issue I had was that tooth going bad back in January. I paid $96 for a five minute appointment during which he told me I needed a root canal and he referred me to an endodontist. I paid over $1300 for the root canal and then I paid over $1400 for Dr. H to crown the tooth that had had the root canal.

I just couldn’t any more.

So I made the appointment with New Dentist for a cleaning.

I paid $59 for a comprehensive exam and cleaning. That was the new patient coupon cost. I know that the next cleaning probably won’t be that inexpensive but you know what? That’s fine because I feel like I chose this guy. I chose to go to his practice and work with him and his staff. I wasn’t foisted off on him by the last guy. I wasn’t part of a buyout. I made a choice and for now, I’m happy with it. And if it ever gets to the point where I’m not? I’ll find another New Dentist and go from there.

I feel so empowered over here right now. It’s a good feeling.

Independent Snacking

Once upon a time, every time Alyssa wanted to eat a pickle, she’d ask either me or Tom for permission.

Several years ago, I told her that she didn’t have to ask any more. If she wanted a pickle, she could get a pickle.

The ‘ask before you eat’ rule was/is Tom’s. I honestly don’t care if the girls get a snack. I mean, okay. I’d rather they not eat a bag of chips in one sitting or grab an oatmeal crème pie as I’m putting dinner on the table, but within reason, please, help yourself to whatever is in the refrigerator or pantry.

Tom seems to think that since they’re children, they can’t be trusted to know when they’re hungry vs bored.

Hell, I’m almost fifty years old and I can’t be trusted to know the difference between hunger vs boredom.

Anyway, the first time Lyss got a pickle without asking her dad asked her if she’d asked me first.

She looked at me, I nodded and she said she had. Later that same day I told her that from that point forward, she had blanket pickle permission. She could go with assurance that I would ALWAYS say yes if she asked for a pickle and so, she could tell her dad, without lying, that she’d asked me about the damned pickle. Because she had, that very night, and I was giving her permission for all the future pickles ever to be eaten.

Is that teaching her to lie to her dad? Ehh, it’s a pickle.

These days, though, I’m ready for Olivia to be able to get her own snacks.

Over the weekend right after her oral surgery, she asked for a snack every fifteen minutes. It was insane. She ate and ate and ate and she asked me every single time she wanted a snack.

And guess what? Because she’s been trained to ask for the stupid snack, she also expects the person she’s asking for the snack to GET her the snack. So I spent the weekend serving her majesty snacks.

I’m ready for her to gain a little independence by getting off her butt and getting her own snacks. I don’t want her to go crazy and eat an entire package of Oreos so maybe we’ll start small.

Going forward, when she asks for a snack, I’ll check the time, see if it’s close to a meal, if not, tell her she can get herself a snack. And when she does, for a while, I’ll check the snack to ensure appropriate serving size.

It’ll be a learning experience for her. And it’ll be freeing for me. Win/win, right?