Today I had my first experience with a French dentist. A bit of background is necessary first though. When I was growing up, fluoride was an added component to the water supply in Namibia. So I don’t know if it was due to this, proper brushing, or simply genetics, but the sum total of my dental treatment thus far in life has been two fillings. Unlike Neighbour J, I do have a toothbrush.

I have thus been fortunate in that I don’t need to visit a dentist very often. The last one I attended in the UK turned out to be a South African, and very good he was too.

However, for the past couple of months one of my back teeth has been a bit painful, so LSS duly made an appointment for me with her dentist. It transpired that one of my two fillings had become cracked.

The woman dentist swiftly appraised my dentition, complimented me on the state of my teeth, and decided it should be a simple job to drill out the remains of the old filling and insert a new one. “I’m not going to bother with anaesthetic,” she said, much to my surprise. “If it hurts too much we’ll reconsider.”

A loud whining noise then commenced, but I stopped when it was obvious she was not paying attention.

Thirty seconds later a new filling had been inserted. Total time spent in chair: five minutes.

Another appointment has been made for the customary tooth polishing, after which I will be presented with the bill.

But all in all, it was not a bad experience.

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