Leaving Delhi…With a Chipped Tooth
What a feeling! To finally have a whole tooth (lower left #7) where for the past two months there had only been fragments and a large hole in my mouth. It was such a wonderful…24 hours.
Dr. Kathuria simply had to remain true to the nature of his fine country. The commonly held idea, proven time and time again, that nothing ever works exactly as planned in India has now infiltrated my last remaining hope, the field of dentistry. Two days ago I said goodbye to the kind receptionist, to my personal saliva suction man, my personal napkin provider, my personal x-ray button presser and to the two dentists, thanking them all for their fine work on my oral issues. Today I said hello to them all yet again, while handing over the chipped piece of my crown, securely wrapped inside my contact lens case (right eye side).
It all began when I awoke this morning with the taste of sand in my mouth. The fact that Delhi does not have any beaches to pass out on allowed my mind to immediately reach the most certain conclusion. With my tongue as my search equipment, I quickly located the chip in my two-day old crown, a grain of rice sized hole at the base of the tooth along my gum. Within five minutes I was on the phone with the dentist and within thirty minutes I was in a rickshaw speeding through morning rush hour traffic, on my way, once again, to the most inconveniently located dentist in Delhi.
¨Oh, just that small chip? You did not say it was that small,¨ the doctor declared upon her first inspection, almost making me feel ashamed for wasting her time. After her second, closer examination, she proceeded to arrive at the proud conclusion that, ¨The crown is perfect, absolutely perfect, nothing wrong, just a part of it sliced off.¨
As indicative of top-notch dental work as that conclusion may have been to her, it had a considerably different meaning to me. And while she seemed absurdly content that the rest of the crown still remained in place, I refrained myself from informing her that the fact that I was once again sitting in her office meant that her work was indeed quite imperfect. I pondered whether or not to redo my comment sheet from the other day, with its ´Very good´ and ´Excellent´ markings now being displayed for new patients to read on the waiting room table. ´They tricked me,´ I thought to myself in disappointment, upset for having actually believed that my dental work would problem free.
The dentist proceeded to make a temporary repair for my tooth, while making jokes about the small size of the chip throughout the procedure. Upon finishing her work, she then added a most comforting disclaimer, ¨This might break off also, but if it does, no problem, the crown is still in perfect shape.¨
I am back in my hotel room now, with some sort of strange taste in my mouth and a plastic band wrapped around my tooth. Tomorrow morning I am leaving Delhi, hence the reason why I could not wait the three days required to have a new impression taken and a new crown manufactured by the lab. Upon finishing the procedure today, the dentist informed me with complete nonchalance, as if my life consisted only of bi-weekly visits to Delhi, to revisit the clinic the next time I was in town so that I could have a new crown made, completely free of charge´ (how nice of them!).
So now, despite not having been in my plans at all, I will have to return to this city once again, for visits #5 and #6 to the dentist. As I walked back to my hotel today, I cringed at the thought of more days in the unbearable heat, the long rickshaw rides, the pollution, the crowds and the noises.
At the moment when I took a deep breath and repeated my personal calming mantra of, ´I love India, I love India¨, a young man leaned out of the window of a bus parked along the side of the road. We made brief eye contact and exchanged light smiles. Then, without warning, he spewed out a nice steady, thick stream of vomit that landed right on top of my sandal clad feet. I love India.
Tags: India
dbaron
Oh man . . . the glory of a place is almost often it’s squalor, I suppose. Best wishes for your next journey and for your return – be it brief – to Delhi.
Great writing once again.