HOW TO CHOOSE A DENTIST [Su, 5-4-25]

BEYOND WINTER: The Irrelevant Choices of An Old Man—HOW TO CHOOSE A DENTIST [Su, 5-4-25]

 

I chose my new dentist because he has a magnificent beard. As one who has occasionally had his beard pulled, pushed, and pummeled by denizens of the dental disciplines, that is an important factor. Bearded people are more careful about not abusing the beards of others.

I had to choose a new dentist because my “old” one retired. She must be older than she looks. When we started with her, I thought we would die long before she retired. She did not have a beard, but she was okay, although I think she might have put a beard surcharge on my bill. Those things can be hard to read.

I was affirmed in the choice of my new dentist by learning that my old dentist now goes to him for her own dental procedures. 

I thought that my new dentist might reject me when I arrived because, even though I was punctual, I had not accessed “the portal” before coming.

I do not do portals. I think that word should be reserved for terror movies, like “The Portal on Elm Street” and “The Elon & Donald Portal.”

Especially I don’t do portals if said portal claims it will give me an access code but does not.

I do not like to tell ordinary people, however, that I refuse to access portals, because it makes me sound like a grumpy old curmudgeon. Oh…wait…

Anyway, when I went into the reception room, and gathered there were the dentist and the office staff and all the hygienists and a few random strangers off the street [They are across the street from Little Zagreb Steak House, which attracts an interesting array of people], I decided I should explain about my absence in the portal, before anyone could accuse.

“I apologize for not entering through the portal,” I announced, without preamble, “but I suffer from a rare brain condition, called portophilia. My brain cannot process the word port or any word that includes port. I can’t drink that 10W30 wine by that name. I can’t visit the capital of Haiti. I have to stay on the starboard side of ships.”

They looked intrigued. At least… maybe it was intrigue…  there was a lot of laughter, some of it the uncertain variety.

While I had their attention, I decided to press on. “One thing you must understand about my mouth,” I said, “is that I don’t need to look any prettier. [Dentists always want to improve your smile.] I don’t need to attract women. I’ve been married 66 years, and her vision is getting bad anyway. As long as I don’t scare little children, my looks are okay.”

They seemed to think this was an unusual entrance for a new patient.

“Besides,” I went on, “I’m old. I don’t have any dread diseases that I know about, but old age itself is sort of a terminal. I just need to be able to chew until I don’t need to. So, no improvements, just maintenance.”

None of the above is made up, and I recommend this approach to you, because it makes people know they can’t put anything over on you. We’ve been going there for almost a month now, and so far it’s cost us only $2,000.

John Robert McFarland