If you had my luck:
– After ignoring your mother-in-law’s word of caution, you’d continue on and visit the dental student* for your first appointment to receive a simple filling and be told that it wasn’t done correctly and you have to come back.
– You would return for a “re-do,” have it hurt like Hades, and yet again be told you have to come back because it isn’t right.
– You would return to the office that same afternoon because the inclusion wasn’t checked and after the numbness wore off, you’d realize that you can’t chew without it hurting since the filling is so raised. You would insist that you don’t see the same student, but walk in and have the student see you and insist on fixing it himself. With tears in your eyes, you’d follow him back to the chair hoping that the coordinator saw the desperation in your face.
– In a stroke of semi-good luck, the coordinator does see your look and sends a faculty member to do the fixing. Good, you can chew now. Eating is important.
||||| Later on, after giving it some thought, you wonder why on earth the school is allowing you to return for a third time, to be seen by the same student. After invest 6 hours and a decent amount of pain, shouldn’t they just want you ‘right?’
No worries, their solution is to just give you another student. Because that’s comforting. After 24 hours, you find a private practice with an experienced dentist. Suck it up, buttercup, pay for the professional. |||||
– You go to the private practice to have the dentist determine that because the student exposed the pulp, you now need a root canal. He does what he can to give some relief to the pain and then refers you to a colleague with more experience with root canals.
Your now over 10 hours in for this cavity. You want to cry. You do.
– You return a week later for your root canal. You sit for two hours in excruciating pain, because you’re extra special and are seemingly unresponsive to the copious amounts of local anesthetic that they give you. You’re told that your nerves are “angry” and that he can’t make any more progress and keep you remotely comfortable. You schedule another appointment.
– A week later, you go to finish up. This time around, after directly injecting the nerve tissue repeatedly with anesthetic, you don’t numb. More hours of pain. The file breaks off in your tooth. Oh, and you now have a hole in the bottom of your tooth from the excessive attention it’s been getting. You’re referred out to a specialist. Because, well, let’s face it, life it good.
– You cry some more.
– Two weeks go by and you find yourself in the chair of the endodontist. Weary, he tells you that because the shape of your root is literally a hook, you may have to come to terms with it being pulled, but he is going to try his darndest to get you fixed up.
– Two hours later, you leave, smiling, happy, and most importantly, pain-free. Dr. Endodontist is amazing.
Almost 2 months, more than 13 hours, and thousands of dollars have now gone into what should’ve been a simple filling. …And you’re still not done because the damned thing needs a crown. But, you’re okay because your husband bought you popcicles last night and didn’t judge you for eating 3 of them.
But, that would only happen if you had my luck.