I’m drowning

Yesterday (Friday, January 28, 2011) I had an appointment with my dentist to do three fillings.
Two were fairly simple, the third a bit more involved.
I like my dentist, a Dr. Yeager of Q-Dental, primarily because he did a difficult side-filling years ago, on which my previous dentist did a sloppy job.
Or so I felt.
I had patronized my previous dentist for eons, but my Transit Alumni group had negotiated special reduced pricing with Q-Dental.
My previous dentist was also far away, a 45-minute trip.
Q-Dental is about a half-hour.
The so-called “Alumni” are the union retirees of Regional Transit Service in Rochester, NY.
For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service (RTS — “Transit”), a public employer, the transit-bus operator in Rochester and environs.
The Alumni was a reaction to the fact Transit management retirees ran roughshod over union retirees — a continuation of the bad vibes at Transit, management versus union.
Transit had a club for long-time employees, and I was in it. It was called the “15/25-year Club;” I guess at first the “25-year Club.” But they lowered the employment requirement, and renamed it “15/25-year Club.” The employment requirement was lowered even more; I joined at 10 years.
My employ there ended in 1993 with my stroke; and the “Alumni” didn’t exist then.
The Alumni is a special club — you have to join. It’s an Amalgamated Transit Union (ATU) functionary. (ATU is nationwide.)
It isn’t just a social club.
It has bylaws, officers, and an Executive Board.
In many ways it’s just like our union-local, except it entertains issues of interest to retirees; like Medicare, healthcare, and diabetes and Alzheimer’s.
My previous dentist also refused to modernize.
During a visit I heard the unmistakable sound of a typewriter.
His receptionist was embarrassed.
I was digital X-rayed on my first visit to Q-Dental. Within seconds that X-ray appeared on a computer monitor.
Never in a million years with my old dentist. Investment in updated technology was abhorrent.
His were X-rays on film that had to be developed.
The tiny 35-mm film-strips were then displayed on a small fluorescent light-table.
Our retiree dental insurance is a joke.
It only pays about 30-40% of a dental-claim.
I guess that’s true of most dental insurances in our area, or at least our program.
With my previous dentist I was forking over a large co-pay.
With Q-Dental I was paying less; a function of the pricing the Alumni got.
Just the same, I am probably one of the few Alumni who pursue complete dental-care.
An assistant wondered if I’d do all the fillings; $149 on my part.
They were probably expecting me to back off and only do the two simple ones, $33 each, $66 total.
“Nope,” I said. “The appointment was for three fillings — let’s do it!”
I signed the consent, and we began prep.
First the Novocain.
“I might be able to skip the Novocain on the right side,” I told the dentist. I had before.
“Depends on how much damage you’re doing.”
“Well, I hafta completely remove the old filling,” my dentist told me.
“I guess we oughta,” I said.
“I’m only numbing that one tooth,” he said; “not the whole right side of your face.”
Almost two months ago, Yeager installed crowns that involved extensive numbing and drilling.
Yeager is very professional — I’m impressed — but three fillings is daunting.
After a few minutes for the Novocain to take effect, extensive drilling began, with an assistant manning a saliva-sucker.
The drill sprays water, and my mouth was propped open.
Water was accumulating in the back of my throat.
I kept having to clear my throat.
I felt like I was drowning, or being waterboarded like an al-Qaeda terrorist.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Hughes,” the assistant said. “We’ll be done with this side in a few minutes, and you can take a break.”
Toss-and-turn!
“Are you all right?” the dentist asked, stopping.
“Ya-ya-ya-ya,” I said.
Like I’m supposed to issue discernible speech with my mouth propped wide-open, filled with metal clamps and assorted paraphernalia.
“This too shall pass,” I thought to myself.
Yeager continued, while I endured.
“Raise your hand if you need to stop,” the assistant said.
This was almost as difficult as a crown-prep, which also involved a lot of drilling.
Except there was all that added water.
I tired of holding my head in position; the same ache I had during the crown-prep.
Finally, “We’re done that side, Mr. Hughes. This was the most difficult filling. You can rinse your mouth out now.”
Slobber-drool.
It’s hard to get the tiny spittoon when your face is disabled by Novocain.
Now for the left side. —Two simple fillings.
More extensive drilling, with geysers of gushing water.
“This too shall pass,” again.
Gasp-choke; more metal paraphernalia.
Finally, after about 15 minutes, “We’re done.”
Again, slobber-drool.
“Sorry about your floor,” I said. “I feel like I’m not helping you any.”
“These are fillings,” Yeager said. “No chewing until the Novocain wears off, and then only soft food.”
Yeager left, hurrying to his next patient.
It was just me and the assistant.
“What’s this thing?” I asked, pointing to some gizmo.
“Oh that’s just a curing-light. Your fillings are all metal amalgam, so the dentist coats your tooth with this insulator-goop, and the curing-light cures it.”
She flicked on the gizmo. A tiny blue pencil-beam shown.
“New-fangled technology,” she said.

• “Q-Dental” is a professional dental-service in the Rochester area.
• I had a stroke October 26, 1993.
• “Mr. Hughes” is me, Bob Hughes, “BobbaLew.”