Elevator Music and a Magic Water Cup
The first thing I noticed was the lack of soft jazz elevator music. As I looked at the bare walls and windows, I almost missed the familiar teal and mauve textured wallpaper. The lights seemed whiter, sharper, more painful. The buzzing and squealing from the equipment seemed to have a higher pitch and a deeper resonation in my jaw. Then I remembered, I’m in Thailand: there is a crucial mindset difference here. Life is suffering. If you’re going to be in a difficult situation, there’s nothing you can do to make it better. You can only endure the suffering, and think that it may end. Life is suffering, life is suffering, life is suffering…
Actually, I was rather proud of myself for getting there in the first place. This was the first time in my life I had made a dentist appointment on my own accord. They say it takes 21 days to make a habit stick… well, for the last twenty one years of my life, my visits to Dr. Namikas were foreordained by the appointment cards clipped to our calendar hanging on the pantry at home. Every six months, in I went, whether I liked it or not. Even through college, I had the dentist to look forward to when I came home on vacation. But in April 2009, I walked out of that teal-and-mauve-elevator-music office a free woman. I can still remember the inward joy I felt when I told Jeanie the receptionist, “No, I won’t be able to schedule another appointment.” “Well, let us know when you’re back in town,” she replied cheerfully… little did she know it would be at least three years, not just six months.
So there I was, almost 10 months from my last dentist appointment, and my twenty-one-years-of-conditioning self told me I was 4 months overdue for a dentist appointment. Bah. My Thai friend asked me, “You brush your teeth, don’t you?”, indirectly asking why I needed to go to the dentist. I told her I was in the habit of going every six months. I could sense her confusion, and asked, “Strange, right?” “Yes, strange…”
Mark, my mentor missionary, recommended Chiang Mai Ram hospital for an affordable dentist. I went in to make an appointment, and did so successfully, in Thai! Woo hoo! Two days later, I went back for the appointment, unsure of… well, everything.
I went in a few minutes earlier than my 3:00 time, in case I had to fill out paperwork, but didn’t expect to be seen right at 3:00. In Thailand, appointments usually are a little late compared to American standards. But it turns out going early was good – I did have to fill out some paperwork with a nurse, answering questions in a mix of Thai and English about any chronic diseases or problems with my teeth that I might have. She also weighed me (note to self: do NOT go to a delicious buffet lunch right before going to the hospital!) and took my blood pressure (which she was impressed by… thank you triathlon!). Then at precisely 3:00, the dental hygienist took me into the room for cleaning.
The first thing I noticed was the lack of soft jazz elevator music… (Why is it called elevator music? I can’t even remember the last time I heard music in an elevator.) She sat me in the chair and put a small metal cup on a spot next to the left armrest. Immediately, the spout above filled it with the exact amount of water. I was surprised, and wondered whether it released a specific amount of water or if it adjusted according to the weight of the cup. Finally I realized that maybe I was supposed to do something with the water, but I decided to wait for her instructions. The dentist came in, Dr. Thacharot Boonyapakorn, and talked to me a little bit in English. Then she put a cloth under my chin, poked around in my mouth, showed me some spots in the mirror, then laid the chair back for the cleaning. “If it hurts, just raise your hand,” she crooned gently.
And that’s where it got strange. The dark green cloth in fact was folded, and when she unfolded it, it covered my whole face, leaving only my mouth and nostrils sticking out of the square hole in the middle. I could think of three things that it could possibly be for: 1) to keep the bright light out of the patient’s eyes; 2) to catch all the flecks of whatever it is that come flying out of your mouth when they’re buzzing and polishing away – much like the paper bibs at Dr. Namikas’ office, but more effective; or 3) to keep the patient from seeing the frightening, ultra pointy razor sharp, shiny metal instruments that they are jamming into your mouth. This last reason seemed plausible enough for me, but I was a little disappointed because, though I would try to keep my eyes peacefully closed during the cleaning, I have a (bad?) habit of looking into the dentist’s or hygienist’s glasses to see what they’re doing in my mouth. Bummer, now all I could see was some green fabric.
Dr. Thacharot and her assistant (hygienist or trainee, I couldn’t quite tell) did a few rounds of picking and sanding, in between each of which they would tell me to sit up and rinse with the magic water cup. Next to the cup there was a miniature sink basin for spitting. When I set the partly empty cup back on the magic spot, the spout filled it up with water again. Ah, it calculates according to weight. The last step was polishing. The dentist used more polish than I think I’d ever had in my mouth at one time before in my life. It tasted strongly of grape kool-aid. I do not like grape-flavored anything… unless it’s grapes. That took me several rinses with the magic water cup to get out of my mouth.
As I got up to leave 26 minutes later, the Dr. said to make a follow-up appointment for six months. Will I? Of course. I’m trained. I waited a few minutes while one of the nurses printed out my receipt – 820 baht: 400 baht for services, 20 baht for materials, and 400 baht for the dentist. In sum, 25 dollars. I have heard that many Australians and Kiwis (New Zealanders) come to Thailand to get their dental work done – even with travel costs, it’s still cheaper than they have to pay. For me, it’s certainly not a bad price for a teeth cleaning and a new cultural experience.