Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Wasted days and wasted nights

A bunch of dames, hanging around with nothing to do . . .

Mr. Molar, where are you?
 A couple of months ago a filling in one of my molars was pulled out by a piece of toffee.  I called my dentist (who I absolutely love), and made an appointment to have it fixed, a request that was quickly and efficiently accommodated.  However, upon inspection of the tooth, said dentist (a self-confessed perfectionist - not a bad quality to have in a dentist) advised that I needed a crown - estimated cost $1,100.  I begrudgingly agreed to this recommendation, despite the fact that I wasn't experiencing any discomfort, (now that the filling had been replaced), and I thought she had a better view of things than I did.  My first appointment involved lots of grinding to reduce my tooth to a post suitable for mounting a crown, and then a mold was taken to be sent away to the crown maker.  I was then fitted with a temporary crown, glued in place with temporary cement, and advised to avoid toffee until the permanent crown was in place, scheduled for yesterday.  I was advised that this next appointment would be relatively simple - remove the temporary crown, and replace it with the permanent crown, this time with permanent cement.  Knowing this, I made an eye appointment on the same day, in the same building, thinking I would kill 2 birds with one trip, so to speak.  At 9:00 I jumped onto the 401 to make the drive into Toronto.  At 9:30 the eye doctor calls me to say that his office is flooded, and therefore my appointment is cancelled.  By 10:30 I'm in the dentist's chair being told that instead of using permanent cement she is going to use temporary cement just in case I need a root canal in a few months - arghhh - I hate root canals!  Then out comes the needle, the drill, the new crown and an assortment of other tools.  "I've done a million crowns, and wouldn't you know it, yours doesn't sit right - we're going to have to take another casting", says the dentist.  Oh well, better luck next time.  With my face half frozen so that even if I was happy about this turn of events, all I could do was scowl, I jump back into city traffic to pick up a piece of recycled retail furniture at a warehouse in the west end of the city, where I met the "dames" pictured above, along with a collection of floor to ceiling used retail equipment,
Part of a former wife of Henry the VIIIth, perhaps?
many of them looking eerily lifelike and somewhat forlorn in their frozen state of naked boredom.  Somehow there had been a breakdown in communication between our people and their people and the particular piece we had come in search of was lost amongst the mayhem of unemployed retail fixtures.  So back onto the 401 four hours later with the same temporary crown, no eye exam and no new (used) retail furniture!

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