(I am attending my first appointment in a new dentist’s office. I’m always a little hesitant to start with a new dental group, not knowing if the new dentist and their assistants will be friendly or not. The hygienist is chatty with me in a friendly manner while she checks my teeth and enters her findings into the computer system.)

Hygienist: “Okay, so next I’ll do a quick cleaning, and then I’ll bring Dr [Dentist] in. She’s great; my absolute favorite. I’d let her do anything she wanted to me.”

(She sits up and removes the tools from my mouth.)

Hygienist: “Wow. That sounded wildly inappropriate when I said it out loud. Please forget I said that, okay?”

(I had to laugh. I think I’ll get along with this new dental group just fine!)

(I have been roughhousing with my brother and break my tooth, so my mother takes me to our dentist. We are First Nations (Indian) and as such my dental care, prescriptions, eye care, etc. are covered by a special governmental insurance. This means we don’t have much if anything to pay for my dental care. As soon as my dentist sees me, she starts to panic.)

Dentist: “Oh, my goodness… How did you do this? Why now of all times?”

Me: “Um, I don’t know? It was an accident.” *goes on to explain what I did*

Dentist: “Oh, boy. Oh, no. Why did you have to do this? Why now?”

(As she’s saying this she’s pacing around the small examining cubicle and rubbing her head and face nervously.)

Mom: “Um, excuse me but it’s none of your business why this happened. It’s your job to fix the problem.”

Dentist: “I’m sorry, it’s just… it’s just that it’s the end of the fiscal year and Indian Affairs only covers a certain amount per year of treatment. You’ve already used quite a bit and I’m just scared they won’t cover this treatment.”

Mom: “That doesn’t sound right… She had her checkup and cleaning but nothing else.”

Me: “I had a filling done and some X-rays.”

Dentist: “Yes! And that used up a lot of your allotted insurance. I’m just concerned for your daughter… If I can’t fix it the only other thing I can do is pull it out and no little girl should have to lose a front tooth. Especially during her growing years. Yes, I’m sure they will understand if I explain it to them that way. Ooohh, why did you have to do this now?! What were you thinking?!”

Mom: “EXCUSE ME?!”

Dentist: “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry. I’m just worried about your daughter, and her beautiful smile. I’m just… ok. Let’s get started here.”

(She went on to explain that she was going to file my tooth down to the core and fit me with a replacement tooth. She took a mold of my tooth, did the filing, and fit me with a temporary crown. She told me I would have to come back when the permanent crown is ready. In the meantime the dentist informed my mother that Indian Affairs wouldn’t cover the procedure but that she would highly discount the cost of the work as a courtesy and worked out a payment arrangement. My mother was not happy about this and contacted the department of Indian Affairs to find out more about why they were refusing to cover the procedure. About a week after getting my permanent crown my mother got a phone call from Indian Affairs. They asked her to confirm that I received certain dental work over the past two years, procedures which I had never had, such as a root canal, several other fillings, and even some cosmetic procedures. My mother assured them they must have the wrong file as I had only my routine visits and cleanings as well as the one X-ray and filling. Months later we found out that my dentist’s clinic was closed down; apparently she had been fraudulently charging Indian Affairs for procedures that were never done on several of her First Nations patients. It seemed that I wasn’t the first patient to be declined coverage because of her fraudulent activities and the calls to Indian Affairs tipped them off. In the end we only paid $100 for the treatment and the crown has held up well 18 years later.)

(I have my wisdom teeth pulled when I am 17. As soon as they tell me they are using laughing gas I start breathing that in as fast as I can because, well, I am 17. After they take the mask off and wait for me to pass out I start talking to the doctor like a chipmunk on crack.)

Me: “Woo! Good stuff. I’m not really into drugs, I mean I’ve tried a bunch but the side effects never sit well with me so I just don’t do them. I have done whippits though. Awesome! Kind of like this. This is great but I’m more of a drinker. OH! About a month ago I went to a house party where the guy’s parents weren’t home and the cops got called. I walked out the back door and stood by a bush and just watched as these two cops chased around everyone else. They had no clue I was there because luckily I wear all black all the time. Hey, you are really cute for a dentist… How old…”

(And then I realize he is looking over my head at the door. I turn my head and see my mother standing there.)

Me: “How long has she been there? You could–” *whipping my head around back to the dentist* “–warn a girl! You are so not getting my number now.”

(I think I finally blacked out after that. When I woke up I had a mouth full of cotton and kept telling my mom I was excited to eat ice cream. Oddly enough, my mother has never asked me about the underage drinking story I was telling so I think I’m in the clear. It has been 15 years.)

(I am getting my wisdom teeth removed right before Christmas, as I’m on break for college. The practice has three dentists, all with Jewish names.)

Nurse: “Okay, we’ll give the shots a little while to work and then once you’re numb we can begin.”

(A few minutes pass, and we wait quietly while the radio plays carols in the office.)

Me: *drooling* “Okay, I’m definitely numb now.”

Dentist: “Great!”

(He reclines my chair, adjusts his glasses, and picks up a drill. I open my mouth.)

Dentist: “You know, I swear, if I hear any more of this d*** Christmas music, I’m going to kill someone!”

(He turns on the drill.)

(I am a dentistry student. I have a patient who has severe problems with personal hygiene. She was assigned to me in my first year of practice because of faculty misjudgment. Her BO is so bad I have to work with a facial mask sprayed with disinfectant spray. Before Christmas, I give my patient a dental cleaning, removing year’s’ worth or tartar plaque, and accidentally get some blood on her shirt. She also seems to have gotten some liquid paper in her hair. She comes back after Christmas, a month after the last appointment, with the same amount of plaque in her mouth.)

Me: “Excuse me, but how much time do you usually take to brush your teeth?”

Patient: “Uh… half an hour.” *blank stare*

Me: “Uh. Do you mean maybe, half a minute?”

Patient: “Yes, yes. That.” *blank stare*

Me: “Oh.”

(And right after that, I notice the stain I gave her, still on her shirt, as well as the liquid paper in her hair.)