I MIGHT HAVE titled this post A Tale of Two Dentists because they are so different.
One is a woman. The other is a man. One is young, the woman. The other is not so young, late 50s. One is a periodontist, the woman. The other is just a normal dentist. They are both good-looking, intelligent and talented.
One has a very noticeable office that screams at you in yellow and orange. The other has an office that you would not know is an office had no one informed you.
There is no sign outside, and he does not even advertise. My dentist is strictly word of mouth, so to speak, and he’s talented enough to pull that off.
The two of us had a dental day on Tuesday. She had an appointment with the periodontist, and I had an appointment with the dentist. She has an issue, but I only needed a cleaning, which I schedule about every five months.
I also was at my dentist a week earlier when he took impressions for the implant I will get next week.
Three months ago, I wrote here about my need for an implant. Beats a bridge, I say. Those are for old folks, not me.
Dental care, like healthcare in general, is — as one never wearies of pointing out — one of the many superlative reasons to live South of the Border.
On Tuesday, everything was paid out of pocket in cash, and we were not bankrupted in the slightest.
One more week, and I’ll have my implant, losing the pirate smile I’ve sported for the last three months. I rather enjoyed the snaggle-toothed grin.
And perhaps I’ve frightened children.