Corona Extra

       There I was, shortly after 8:00 am, at the dentist's in Los Algodones, Mexico.  This is the "dentist town", with about 500 dentists in business.  We didn't have an appointment, but made sure we waited on the bench a few minutes before the office opened. I handed Dr. Catalan the small piece of paper with the diagram showing which teeth needed crowns.  He slid over the x-ray machine.  I agreed to have him do as much as possible in one day, although over the phone from Canada he'd initially told me there should be 24 hours between each crown.  I also agreed to have the space filled in from the tooth he'd pulled 2 1/2 years ago, even though I knew nothing about bridges.  So that meant four crowns, one bridge, two more crowns on either side of it.  There was also a tooth that needed a filling.
The tooth that had broken off in Hawaii needed a root canal.  Not because there was anything wrong with it, but because there was a post in it that had held a large filling together. 
       "Let's start with this, " said the dentist.
       "OK,"  I agreed.
A short while later he held up a tiny, pink. thread-like piece of flesh.
       "This is the root!"  he said.
       "Holy cow!"  I thought.  I'm not Hindu, but that is the strongest word in my vocabulary.
       I was feeling pretty mellow, not at all nervous.   On the wall were a couple of Bible verses which I studied.  I had complete faith in this dentist.  In fact the whole time I sat in the chair I was so relaxed, I could've fallen asleep. Once he had put freezing into my jaw, that is.  Then, without comment, he started drilling.  I grunted.  A few more jabs of the needle.  Never had I experienced drilling without waiting for the freezing to take effect!  It wasn't that bad, though.
       Dr. Catalan is a man of few words, and worked quickly and quietly.  He kept up a conversation in Spanish, however, with his assistant, Jilda.  I didn't mind.  The background patter was better than listening to an inane conversation in English.  He didn't say anything to me at all except "Open," and "Close."  I decided to ask him a question.  I signalled to Jilda that I wanted to write something.  She pointed to the paper towel roll on the wall.  No.  "Escribar?"  It sounded close enough to the French that I knew the word meant "to write".  I nodded, so she brought me a pen and the backside of a receipt book. 
       "Do you remove ALL the old fillings before putting on a crown?"  I wrote. 
       "Yes, " he said.
       While Dr. Catalan sat and ground the temporary crowns, I did sideways stretches, and moved my neck from side to side.  Jilda brought me a roll of paper towel, and placed it behind my neck. 
The hours rolled by.  I didn't even have to use the restroom.  What a miracle!
       Finally, exactly four hours later, he announced, "All done!" 
       "Everything?" I asked incredulously.
       "Yes.  Come back on Thursday for the permanent crowns."   I had one day's reprieve. 
On Thursday Terry and I were on the road again at 7:00 am.  It only took about 20 minutes to get to the border, crossing through a tiny corner of California from Yuma, Arizona, where we were staying with our friends. 
When I saw the white crowns, I asked, "Is it possible to have them match my yellow teeth?"
"Yes, come back in an hour."
I don't know what they did at the lab, but when I returned, they were a perfect match. Soon they were cemented into my mouth, and we were off, threading our way through the maze of coloured shirts, purses, and jewelry to get back to the parking lot.
The cost?  About an eighth of what it would've cost back home.  Even though we had to fly down, it was worth it.  I'm so grateful to have all this work taken care of.