A week later I go to the periodontist visit. He swoops in shakes my
hands and the creepy feeling starts. Now here is the side note. I
taught his children piano for years. His wife, also a
dentist of some kind slept on my couch out of pure exhaustion while
their children took their lessons. Anyway, he says those things that
are supposed to make me feel like he cares. He's so sensitive. I'm
feeling guarded. He looks and probes and I hear his stomach rumble. I
wonder if he's had lunch. I flatter him with how gentle he is. It's
almost like a date. My husband hasn't been this close to me in months. There is a man I no longer care for in the slightest, in fact may even detest in my mouth.
Two
things, there's a new test for bacteria. I need to spit in a cup.
It's not covered on insurance, but it will help him know if there's any
activity, rush, rush, rush, professional . . .
$150 cha chang
Ok. I agree, I'm on the verge of tears. I keep rolling my eyes and blinking.
Finally, it's over. I get to the desk and I have to figure out a way
to pay a 200-plus dollar visit. Apparently, they don't take insurance
from initial patients. It doesn't matter I went to this doctor every
three or four months for ten years. I'm about to cry, so I'm
desperately looking for my credit card, accidentally pull out my debit
card, she swipes it and I'm on my way.
The next time I open my wallet I see my debit card in a strange place. That's when I realize I just paid cash for the visit.
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