If you’ve been reading my public diary, you know what’s been going on, but for those with higher literary standards I’ll briefly recap the situation: I’ve had no dental insurance in most of my adult life, leading to a habit of ignoring toothaches. Usually the pain fades away and I go on cheerfully chewing, but when the pain is stubborn a tooth gets yanked.
The ache of July & August 2025 wouldn’t go away, so last weekend I saw an emergency dentist, and had a tooth yanked. I appreciate and respect that dentist’s expertise, as she told me that the tooth that had been hurting wasn’t really the problem, and yanked a different tooth. I didn’t appreciate the price, though, nor her recommendation that three more teeth be removed, which would’ve cost literally thousands of dollars.
The pain was yanked along with the tooth, and she wrote a prescription for antibiotics that seems to have beaten back the infection. There’s now minimal mouth pain, and my only mild complaint is that the infection and swelling seem to have permanently changed the shape of my jaw, leaving several teeth pinched tightly together, numb and sometimes tingly.
Today I went to a different and more affordable dentist, expecting to get those three more teeth pulled. As an experiment, though, I didn’t mention the expensive dentist’s recommendation. I wanted to see whether a second dentist would reach the same conclusion.
Here’s the first difference between the cheap dentist and the expensive dentist: Every chair and patient were in a room of their own, with walls between them. Privacy? What a concept!
The second big difference was the dental assistant. At the expensive place, she was young and beautiful. As she took x-rays of my teeth she said several times, “Look at me,” and “Look away from me,” to get my head properly aligned for the next burst of radiation, and lemme tell you, looking at her was much easier than looking away. Today at the cheap place, the dental assistant was old, chubby, and wrinkled, much like the patient — but she knew better what she was doing. Arranging that metal doohickey in my mouth, she had a gentler, softer touch than the “Look at me” young lady a week ago. Experience and expertise is better than young and beautiful.
Today’s dentist was kind, efficient, and thorough — especially, thorough. I’ve never had a more complete mouth and tooth exam. The expensive dentist had spent perhaps 5 minutes examining my mouth and x-rays before making her recommendations, but the cheap dentist gave me half an hour, at least. Tooth by tooth he poked around, while dictating notes to the assistant, listing all the rot, exposed roots, and shattered and missing teeth for my chart. He spotted no signs of infection, for which I’ll thank the expensive dentist and the week’s worth of amoxicillin she prescribed.
Most interesting, today’s cheap but thorough dentist saw nothing worrisome about teeth #24, #25, and #26, which the expensive dentist had declared doomed for extraction at $795 each. Instead, today’s dentist recommended pulling a different tooth, toward the back, which had been giving me no pain.
The discount dentist is cheaper, with more affordable advice, which makes me suspect that dentistry, like the rest of medical care, is more concerned about the patient’s wallet than the patient’s health. But the cheap dentist seemed concerned about both.
Midway through the exam, today’s doc asked, “When did you last have your teeth cleaned?”
“Oh jeez,” I said. “Fifty years ago?”
“Well, you’re a new patient, and new patients get their first cleaning free.”
The purpose of having teeth professionally cleaned is unclear to me. Aren’t my teeth clean already, just from brushing five times weekly? But I don’t argue with free, so I’ll be back in the discount dentist’s chair tomorrow morning.
In conclusion, mos def, I recommend the discount dentist — superior to the expensive dentist in every way.
As for that tooth that needs yanking, however, Doc Cheap said that because of its position and how it’s impacted against its neighbor tooth, he doesn’t want to do the extraction himself. Instead he gave a referral to Swedish’s “charity offices.”
For those outside Seattle, Swedish is not merely a meatball, it’s also a ritzy chain of medical clinics. But I didn’t know they do dental work, and they’re not doing any on me.
I filled out their forms, grumpily answering twenty rude and intrusive questions. And they don’t merely ask, they demand proof — proof of income, 90 days’ bank statements, copy of lease, a list of anything owned that’s worth $500 or more, and a legal notice promising to reject me and maybe sue if any statement on the form is untrue upon investigation. All this, before deciding whether someone qualifies for charity work. And there’s more — the questions and proof aren’t merely for the patient; they want answers and proof from everyone in the patient’s immediate family.
I answered the questions, but provided no proof. Maybe some day I will, if it’s a life-or-death situation, but this isn’t, so Swedish can go fuck a meatball.
Meanwhile, I’m declaring the ache of July & August 2025 officially over. No further teeth will be pulled, at least not until the next toothache, and I’m old enough that I might be dead first. And best of all, I’ll die with clean teeth!
8/12/2025
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