I'm Lindsay Ferrier, a Nashville writer with a passion for family travel, exploring Tennessee, and raising kids without losing my mind in the process. This is where I share my discoveries, along with occasional deep thoughts, pop culture tangents and a sprinkling of snark. Want to get in touch? Use the CONTACT form at the top of the page.
September 19, 2013
I don’t know about you, but I’m getting a little tired of writing about my molars on this blog. However, the whole ‘crown’ saga ended (I hope!) yesterday every bit as badly as it began, and I’m guessing at least one of you out there wants to know the dramatic conclusion.
Thus I present to you part three of The Tooth Trilogy.
Last week while I was in Disney World, my temporary crown came loose. (Because OF COURSE IT DID.) Fortunately, the dentists’ office left a voicemail the next day, saying that my permanent crown had come in from the lab– but since I was out of town, there was nothing I could do about it until I got back home.
This week, I called to make an appointment– and was told that the dentist was out of town until next week.
“Oh dear,” I said. “My temporary crown came loose last week while I was on vacation and I’m going to be out of town all of next week for work.”
“Oh,” said the receptionist. “I’m sorry.”
“What about the other dentist?” I asked.
“Dr. Payne is no longer with us,” she said.
“No, not Dr. Payne,” I said. “Dr. Whiteteeth. What about him?”
“He’s in,” she said vaguely, “but he’s got to be available for emergencies and stuff.”
I paused. I mean, was this not sort of an emergency?
“I don’t really know what to say,” I said. “I’m shooting a video next week and I’m a little worried about doing it with a missing tooth.”
Silence. “Hold on,” the receptionist said finally. I waited for a few minutes until she got back on the line.
“We’ll mark you down as a work-in if you can be here when the doors open at 7:30 tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll be there,” I said. “Thank you so much.” Finally, I would be seeing the highly regarded and highly elusive Dr. Whiteteeth- the dentist with whom I had tried to make an appointment the very first time I called the office.
Yesterday, I got up bright and early and headed to my appointment, nervously anticipating an end to the three-month-long mess I had gotten myself into. When I arrived, a technician took me back to one of the examining rooms.
“Do you want to be numbed for this?” she asked.
“Oh no,” I said. “I’m fine.” I had been through the numbing process too many times before in this office, and I didn’t like how it made me feel — plus, everyone I talked to about crowns said that numbing wasn’t really necessary to have a permanent crown put in unless you’re highly sensitive to pain- and I’m not.
The technician quickly removed my temporary crown and then tried out the new one in its place. She worked with it for a few minutes. It definitely didn’t feel right. Then she stood up. “I’ll be right back,” she said.
A few minutes later, she returned.”Dr. Whiteteeth would like to do an x-ray of your gum with the permanent crown before he seals it,” she said. “Just to make sure it’s a good fit.”
“Okay,” I said uncertainly. This was starting to get weird. Again. She took the x-ray, then left the room.
A few minutes later, Dr. Whiteteeth came in the room and introduced himself. He began working with the permanent crown in my mouth. Minutes passed. He looked at the x-ray image for a long moment.
“Unfortunately, this crown is not a good fit,” he said. If this were an old-fashioned dental soap opera (What? You’ve never heard of an old-fashioned dental soap opera?!), the music would have crescendoed ominously at that moment and I would have fainted into my dentist’s arms. But this, sadly, was real life. I just stared at him as he gave some explanation of why the crown didn’t fit. The only words I heard were these–
“I’m gonna have to numb you.”
“What?” I said. “Why?”
“Blah blah new impression,” he explained. “And the blah blah blah gum retractor.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. “But I still don’t really understand why the last permanent crown didn’t fit either.”
“Well, probably, blah blah blah,” he explained.
“And what about the first permanent crown?” I asked in an embarrassingly quavery voice. “Why didn’t that one fit? I mean, what’s going on here?”
That was me, trying to be all assertive. While trying not to cry.
He paused. “I’m not really sure about that,” he said.
With that, he got out the Novocaine needle and plunged it into my gum. While it was in there, he attempted to hold a conversation with me. I didn’t answer him. I couldn’t answer him. I don’t even know what he said. All I could think was that THIS MAN WANTED ME TO TALK WHILE THERE WAS A FREAKING NEEDLE STUCK IN MY GUM. I mean, I try to be very tolerant of others, but DO NOT ASK ME QUESTIONS WHILE YOU HAVE A NEEDLE IN. MY. GUM. Because that crosses my personal line of comfort regarding interactions with other human beings. Especially dentists.
Gah.
After that was done, the dentist and technician left the room and I lay in the chair, trying to remain calm. Embarrassingly, tears began leaking out of the sides of my eyes. No Lindsay, I told myself fiercely, You are not going to have another meltdown in this office. You. Are. Not. I took deep breaths and tried to pull myself together before they came back into the room.
“I’ve got good news!” Dr. Whiteteeth said unconvincingly when he returned a few minutes later. “The technician checked and actually found ANOTHER permanent crown with your name on it! Let’s try it and see if it fits!”
In the dental soap opera version of this tale, I fainted again.
In the real version, I blinked. Twice.
It was a true glass slipper moment. Dr. Whiteteeth put the ‘other crown’ my mouth and deemed it a perfect fit. And then he asked me to marry him. PSYCHE.
In real life, he began the process of cementing the crown into my mouth. The problem with this was that my gums by that point had been poked and prodded so much that even with the Novocaine, having the permanent crown sealed hurt like a mutha.
“You see?” he said triumphantly as I squeezed my eyes shut in pain. “You needed that Novocaine after all!” Inwardly, I seethed.
At last, my permanent crown was in. I said my goodbyes and left. And then I cried all the way home. And I swear, y’all, I’m really not much of a crier. Certainly not while driving. Safety first! All I knew, though, was that my gums hurt like hell, and I couldn’t feel the right side of my face. And that, I felt, was deserving of a good cry-on-the-road.
Today, the pain is no better and I’m left with so many questions. Like, what was up with the other crown? The one that was the wrong color? Why would there be TWO crowns? There’s no way they would put a crown back on the shelf that didn’t fit me, right? I mean, that wouldn’t even make sense. So… WAS THAT… SOMEONE ELSE’S CROWN?! OMG, DID THEY ALMOST GLUE SOMEONE ELSE’S TOOTH INTO MY MOUTH?! GROSS!
Also, why did it take me eight office visits and three months to get a crown? And what happened to Dr. Payne? And why did they use that drill over and over again on so many visits? And why didn’t they call me when my crown came in? And why did they have to take so many impressions?
All of these questions really boil down to one essential one:
WTF?
I don’t like writing about bad stuff on this blog, because it makes me feel bad. And it makes my tooth hurt worse. And just. Yuck.
But my tooth had a story. A story that begged to be told.
So there you go.
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You make me never want to go to the dentist ever never ever again. I’m already afraid enough as it is, but HOLY BEJEEBUS, man.
This is the exception, Lisa! Or so I’m told… 😉
If I’d suffered even 10% of the indignity you went thru with this sorry excuse for a dental practice, I’d be all over the Better Business Bureau, and the insurance company that paid for the dental work (if applicable) to let them know what transpired. I’d also badmouth them to the fullest extent possible–well, just ‘CUZ. And THEN……I think an expose on the 6:00 TV newz might just be in order.
I spent many years working in the dental industry, working in various capacities such as office admin, chairside assistant, and eventually a college-educated dental lab tech. I can assure you that none of what you were subjected to is normal–by any stretch of the word. Go get ’em!!
Tell Dennis that THIS is a question for Jeremy Findley!
OMG – THAT IS INSANE! A crown lying around with your name on it eh? And to think I was pissed off that I had to get a cavity filled. I’ll keep my cavity thankyouverymuch!
Ha ha!
I’ve read all three parts to this story, and I wish I would have commented sooner. I work for a dentist, in fact I work for a specialist who only does crown and bridgework dentistry. On the rare occasions where we have to reschedule a patient because the crown doesn’t fit, that crown always gets sent back to the lab so they can make the necessary alterations, or they start from scratch. I would be worried very much that they tried to cement another patient’s crown into your mouth.
Your experience isn’t the norm, I promise you. Seriously, look for a new dentist.
Thanks! I’m definitely not going back!
I used to work for a dental specialist, and I agree, this is NOT the norm. Unprofessional, on so many levels! Not to mention uncaring and Weird. I learned the hard way, even if you’ve heard great things and every other dentist says that he’s technically very skilled, if you don’t like a practitioner (of any kind!) from the get-go, find another ASAP! I suffered for a year with a cracked tooth that my intelligent general dentist refused to believe in (because I enjoy making up pain to test you! Or something…) before I switched to a guy who was just as good, but actually cared. I no longer feel like an inconvenience every time I mention a concern/issue. It’s wonderful.
But it can be SO hard to advocate for yourself when a whole office is convincing you that you’re the crazy one. Good luck finding a new dentist. If you ever move to OR, I know a few guys.
Thank you! I’ve taken time over the years to find great doctors- I figured after my cleaning that I’d go ahead and get the crown done at this dentist (to save the time and expense of getting another diagnosis at another new dentist) and then find a new one once the crown was in. I had no idea it would turn into this horrible ordeal!
BTW, I recommend calling up a few local endodontists, periodontists, or other specialists, and getting recs from them. The front desk should have a short list of dentists that the boss thinks are good practitioners. And if it’s a small community, they can give you insights about personalities, too, that might be helpful. My boss only let us recommend a handful of guys from our town because he really cared about people getting good care and didn’t want someone to go with the biggest yellowpage ad or the cheapest intro coupon. ALWAYS get a professional’s opinion. Sometimes patients love pretty crappy or behind-the-times dentists.
Good point.
My Dad was an endodontist and when I moved to a new state, my Dad called four endodontists in my area and asked for recommendations on general practice dentists. He said that the dental specialists see all of the work by other dentists and know who does good work.
I would call the office manager and get a meeting with both dentists so you have a good understanding why / what happened. Tell them you’d pay for an office visit, but don’t think it’s out of line.
Hoping your tooth settles down and that you write a really honest review on Yelp.
YUCK. What did they do with the tooth that didn’t fit? Clearly it wasn’t yours… Rinse it off and stick it in someone else’s mouth?!
I don’t even want to know! Yuck!
I haven’t read the earlier parts of your saga, but WTF indeed. I think it’s time to find a blankity-blank (*ahem, deep-breath*) new dentist. I’m pissed on your behalf that they have been yanking you around. That is so unprofessional. It should NOT take 8 visits to get this done. WTF.
Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m kinda wondering why you went back after the first bad experience with these folks. Eight visits? That makes me cringe. I know this isn’t going to come out well, so bear with me. You’re such a smart person and the impression I have of you is that you’re pretty assertive. So…why? I wish I were your big sister and lived next door and could’ve marched in there and kicked some dental ass on your behalf. You definitely deserve better treatment, and some kind of logical explanation of why this particular dental practice engaged in so much f***upery. You can bet that if they (mis)treated you that way, they’re (mis)treating others that way. I think an article naming names and telling the whole story is definitely in order. Right after you sue these idiots.
Oh no, there’s a very simple answer to this question- I didn’t want the time and expense of starting this process all over again at another dentist’s office. I was really hoping that the problems were with the first dentist, not the practice itself. And I went to each of the last few visits absolutely certain that it was DEFINITELY going to be the last visit– so the last thing I wanted to do was start the whole process (and expense, which is considerable for a crown) over again at another office. Looking back, it was a mistake to keep going back, but I also couldn’t have known each time that I was going to have to come back again.
I got my permanent crown put on nearly two weeks ago now and it STILL hurts so much that I’m popping ibuprofen several times a day and I STILL can’t chew food on that side of my mouth. I am just so, so angry. I was actually having no problems or pain with that initial childhood filling that they removed- I just didn’t like that it was silver. Ugh.