Deb suggested that I could get 'something done', at the dentist. Putting aside the shiver factor of dentistry, I politely asked what she meant, and she suggested getting my teeth whitened.
Now I find that teeth whitening is an idea that I would never have had. But she thought that my teeth weren't as white as when we got married and this would be a good idea.
Then she told me that she had made me an appointment for Friday at 4 pm. For some reason, once she had made an appointment, then I was obliged to go through with it.
And then, she talked to the concierge at the hotel about setting up a snorkeling trip. Now, this is something I really did want to do. Ever since I first saw Jacques Cousteau, I've wanted to dive in the ocean. I used to swim under water every chance I could get. I'd swim underwater in lakes, and pools. I tried to hold my breath as long as possible and at one time, I could swim the length of a regulation pool underwater. The chance to go snorkeling in the ocean, the Pacific Ocean, was exciting.
I was looking forward to getting wet. BUT, we kept getting mixed messages about what was expected. On Thursday, we were getting discouraged about making this happen. We both got on the internet, and could find much information about tours and such. This looks sketchy at best.
OK, so Friday afternoon comes around, and I get in the chair. The technician starts loading my mouth up with something to keep my lips out of the way, gauze to protect my tongue, some sort of rubber that covers my gums and is hardened with her magic wand (really, a magic wand). I get high tech yellow sunglasses and the little hooky thing that slurps up spit.
And then she anoints my teeth with magic whitening fluid and brings in the laser.
Twenty minutes later, she comes in, adds more goo, and sets up the laser. Deb has finished her work for the day, so she comes in and tries to get me to talk. The oral fixation device reduces my speach to "Ungh, ungh." So she gets bored and leaves me in the dark.
Twenty minutes more of laser radiation, and I'm finally, sort of done. The tech hand me a mirror, and I can look into my death's head grin, to see my whiter teeth.
"Is good?" She asks, "Want one more?"
I agree that I am satisfied, and beg to have my mouth back. She just smiles and begins to unpack my mouth. After much rinsing, and gargling and removal of a really amazing amount of stuff from my mouth, I am released. Deb is waiting in the hall, and demands to have me smile. "Oh yes, that's much better. Come on." She grabs my arm and drags me over to her new friend Nickoletta. Nicky, as we now call her, is scheduled for whitening on Tuesday, and she wants to see my results.
"What's that white spot?" Nicky asks.
We agree that I had that spot before the treatment. And Nicky is kind enough to give her approval.
And so, now I have whiter teeth. Next time you see me, ask me to smile.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Friday, May 6, 2011
Rainy Day
We are in the beginning of the rainy season, which means we usually get an hour or two of rain every day. It has been dry for the last couple of days, but now we are making up for lost time.
Back to the dentist's office, and waiting. Most of my time is spent waiting while painful things happen to Deb. I don't want to trade places with her, but I do get bored. Fortunately,today was only impressions, and fitting of temp teeth. While her permanent teeth are being made, Deb will be wearing a set of temporary teeth for the next few days.
We pass the time by introducing ourselves to other patients. One older couple, Eddy and Norma, originally came from Cuba. Norma still breaks into Spanish when she isn't thinking about it. Eddy says, "English, Norma, English." and Norma gives him an impatient look that means that she knows, quit bothering her. Norma is the one supporting Eddy, as he gets dental work done. Eddy is waiting patiently while Norma frets that they have forgotten him. Then she is concerned that he won't get the good doctor. "Don't worry, Norma," Eddy pats her leg. "They know what they are doing."
He turns to me, "I am the one who is easy going. She frets about everything."
"Well someone has to take care of this." Norma says, "You don't worry about anything."
Eddy just pats her leg fondly.
As we talk, Eddy mentions that he was captured by the Cubans and rode to prison in a semi-trailer along with 150 other men, packed in like sardines. "Thirty or forty of them died. I rode to prison, sitting on a dead man."
Two other guys are also from Cuba. One of them was part of an evacuation that brought children and left their parents behind. He was seventeen when he set foot in America. They kept offering him welfare, and charity, but he just wanted to get a job and earn his own way.
Deb is having a tired day. We both have found that we come to a point where the constant stress of being in a different country seems to catch up with you. Today was that day. We both are feeling tired. Deb napped for three hours in the middle of the day, which she never does.
Back to the dentist's office, and waiting. Most of my time is spent waiting while painful things happen to Deb. I don't want to trade places with her, but I do get bored. Fortunately,today was only impressions, and fitting of temp teeth. While her permanent teeth are being made, Deb will be wearing a set of temporary teeth for the next few days.
We pass the time by introducing ourselves to other patients. One older couple, Eddy and Norma, originally came from Cuba. Norma still breaks into Spanish when she isn't thinking about it. Eddy says, "English, Norma, English." and Norma gives him an impatient look that means that she knows, quit bothering her. Norma is the one supporting Eddy, as he gets dental work done. Eddy is waiting patiently while Norma frets that they have forgotten him. Then she is concerned that he won't get the good doctor. "Don't worry, Norma," Eddy pats her leg. "They know what they are doing."
He turns to me, "I am the one who is easy going. She frets about everything."
"Well someone has to take care of this." Norma says, "You don't worry about anything."
Eddy just pats her leg fondly.
As we talk, Eddy mentions that he was captured by the Cubans and rode to prison in a semi-trailer along with 150 other men, packed in like sardines. "Thirty or forty of them died. I rode to prison, sitting on a dead man."
Two other guys are also from Cuba. One of them was part of an evacuation that brought children and left their parents behind. He was seventeen when he set foot in America. They kept offering him welfare, and charity, but he just wanted to get a job and earn his own way.
Deb is having a tired day. We both have found that we come to a point where the constant stress of being in a different country seems to catch up with you. Today was that day. We both are feeling tired. Deb napped for three hours in the middle of the day, which she never does.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
We watched Survivor
After driving back a forth twice, we are at the end of a very long day. They did get water back, and we ended up staying at the dentists until late. The worked late to catch up with appointments that had to be delayed because of the broken water main. Many of the patients are medical tourists, and they have a fixed amount of time to stay, before they have an airline reservation to leave. Losing a day can really cause problems when you have teeth partly fixed.
The waiting rooms are fitted with large flat screen T.V. hooked up to cable. Deb is having her front teeth worked on. She has caps on them, and the dentist has recommended they be replaced. She worried about the pain to her teeth when they took off the caps, but that was actually pretty easy. While she was waiting around between steps in her treatment, we found Survivor, in English, on the TV. We have been following the latest installment from Nicaragua, just across the border. We were both pleased that today has been painless.
The waiting rooms are fitted with large flat screen T.V. hooked up to cable. Deb is having her front teeth worked on. She has caps on them, and the dentist has recommended they be replaced. She worried about the pain to her teeth when they took off the caps, but that was actually pretty easy. While she was waiting around between steps in her treatment, we found Survivor, in English, on the TV. We have been following the latest installment from Nicaragua, just across the border. We were both pleased that today has been painless.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
The Costa Rican Government, what can you do?
It's just after lunch, and we are back at the Alta. With Deb feeling much better, we went to the dentist's office. We were both waiting when the senior dentist came out and announced that they are working on a burst water pipe. Water has been turned off for the whole block.
"We don't know when it will be turned back on. The Costa Rican government, what can you do?" He said and shrugged. "You don't want to get too close to me. I haven't had my shower, yet."
He was obviously joking, trying to reduce our disappointment. After waiting a bit, we decided to go back to the Alta for lunch and to wait in a little more comfort.
Lunch was Wasabi Tuna and Fiery Shrimp. As we ate our very good lunch, Michael, the owner, stopped by and asked about Deb's health. He was very glad to hear that she was feeling better. Deb mentioned how much the chicken pot pie had meant to her. He said, "Oh, that was you that ordered it? The chef fixed two and I had the other one, it was really good."
He wished us well, and left us to eat our meal.
About mid afternoon we got a call to come back to the office, "We have water!"
"We don't know when it will be turned back on. The Costa Rican government, what can you do?" He said and shrugged. "You don't want to get too close to me. I haven't had my shower, yet."
He was obviously joking, trying to reduce our disappointment. After waiting a bit, we decided to go back to the Alta for lunch and to wait in a little more comfort.
Lunch was Wasabi Tuna and Fiery Shrimp. As we ate our very good lunch, Michael, the owner, stopped by and asked about Deb's health. He was very glad to hear that she was feeling better. Deb mentioned how much the chicken pot pie had meant to her. He said, "Oh, that was you that ordered it? The chef fixed two and I had the other one, it was really good."
He wished us well, and left us to eat our meal.
About mid afternoon we got a call to come back to the office, "We have water!"
Challenging the Chef
With Deb in bed, and sleeping. I finally had time for lunch. The Alta is really a great restaurant, with a boutique hotel in front. While the hotel is very nice, the restaurant has spoiled us. While I was eating, the owner, Michael stopped by.
Michael is an American who move to Costa Rica and built a great little hotel. On our last visit, he took a real interest in helping us. He asked about Deb and was concerned about her being so sick. He told me to ask the kitchen for anything that might make her feel better. "Challenge the chef," he said.
As Deb felt better, she got her appetite back, and I passed on Michael's good wishes and his suggestion to challenge the chef.
Deb got this distant look in her eye, and said, "Chicken pot pie. That would be just the thing to cure me."
Now, personally, I think that a chef should be challenged with something exotic. But she really wanted something comforting and easy to chew. So I walked down to the restaurant and talked with one of the waiters.
How do you explain chicken pot pie to a Costa Rican? I don't know if they have pot pie. And when I explained that it was chicken, potatoes, carrots in gravy in a pie crust, I could see him doubting that he understood me. Pies are sweet desserts, chicken and gravy aren't dessert food. Then he told me that he had to check with the chef. When he came back, he still looked doubtful, but he said it would take some time.
"Can we have it by 7:00 pm?"
"Oh yes, no problem."
He delivered our supper with a bit of a flourish and set up our meal on the veranda table.
Chicken pot pie, at the Alta is a ceramic ramekin with puff pastry top, chicken simmered perfectly in potatoes and carrots. A gravy boat comes along to give you enough of the gravy so you don't have to worry if the gravy was soaked up by the pie.
Deb was well satisfied with her supper, and even looked a little better after eating it.
Score one for our side.
Michael is an American who move to Costa Rica and built a great little hotel. On our last visit, he took a real interest in helping us. He asked about Deb and was concerned about her being so sick. He told me to ask the kitchen for anything that might make her feel better. "Challenge the chef," he said.
As Deb felt better, she got her appetite back, and I passed on Michael's good wishes and his suggestion to challenge the chef.
Deb got this distant look in her eye, and said, "Chicken pot pie. That would be just the thing to cure me."
Now, personally, I think that a chef should be challenged with something exotic. But she really wanted something comforting and easy to chew. So I walked down to the restaurant and talked with one of the waiters.
How do you explain chicken pot pie to a Costa Rican? I don't know if they have pot pie. And when I explained that it was chicken, potatoes, carrots in gravy in a pie crust, I could see him doubting that he understood me. Pies are sweet desserts, chicken and gravy aren't dessert food. Then he told me that he had to check with the chef. When he came back, he still looked doubtful, but he said it would take some time.
"Can we have it by 7:00 pm?"
"Oh yes, no problem."
He delivered our supper with a bit of a flourish and set up our meal on the veranda table.
Chicken pot pie, at the Alta is a ceramic ramekin with puff pastry top, chicken simmered perfectly in potatoes and carrots. A gravy boat comes along to give you enough of the gravy so you don't have to worry if the gravy was soaked up by the pie.
Deb was well satisfied with her supper, and even looked a little better after eating it.
Score one for our side.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
More about Debbie's Mouth
Today has been very long. I'll try to keep the events in order.
Because Deb had been so hurt yesterday, I wanted to talk to the dentist and get an understanding of what is going on. I was alarmed by her reaction. She was not feeling well and looked really shaky.
This morning, she looked a little better, but seemed listless and easily distracted. I was trying to urge her along, without getting bossy but trying to get her out in time to meet our taxi.
We returned to the dentist. After awhile, Deb was trembling, felt sick and had to get to somewhere cool. The general waiting room is not warm, just not kept very cool. They moved her into a small waiting room, with an air conditioner, and turned it up to maximum. She still felt nauseous.
Then they moved her to a dental suite, let her lay back in the chair, and put auxiliary oxygen on her. Even then she wasn't feeling good, so they called for emergency medical services. Three men showed up and examined her. They took her temperature, checked her pulse, blood pressure and generally checked her out.
They diagnosed her as being in nicotine withdrawal. She had been cutting way back on smoking, and as a result, she had a pretty bad reaction. They explained that nicotine withdrawal can be pretty severe. Combined with the stress of dental work, she had crossed some boundary, and her body was reacting badly.
The main guy, wrote out a prescription for a nicotine patch. They packed up, and wished us well. Deb stayed in the chair until she felt a little better, and we called a taxi.
I haven't really described traffic in San Jose. Briefly, it is very busy, very aggressive, and very crowded. Taxis are generally small diesel cars, manual transmission and driven by men with years of experience threading their vehicles through small openings.
That said, we get into a taxi, and the driver began fighting his way back to the Alta. We charged ahead, braked and then took off again. At one point, traffic stopped and we screeched to a halt. Deb was trying to keep from throwing up, while being jostled around in the taxi. When we finally reached the Alta, as we pulled around the tight drive, Deb bailed out of the moving taxi. I jumped out of my side, and went over to Deb as she threw up in the gutter. The doorman came over with a bottle of water, and Deb rinsed her mouth.
I got her up to our room, settled her into bed.
Back down to the front desk, talking to the clerk. "I need a taxi to take me to an ATM, and a farmacia."
"Yes," she said. Then paused as she translated what I said into Spanish.
She called a taxi, and I waited, hoping her grasp of English was better than my Spanish.
After a while, a red micro-bus came down the drive. The doorman spoke to the driver, and I climbed in.
This driver was not as good as our other drivers have been. He crowded the oncoming traffic. At one point, he cut off a driver who was trying to crowd him. But he did get me to a strip mall with a bank, and a pharmacy.
The bank gave me some local currency, for taxi fare. The pharmacy looked at my prescription, and the girl behind the counter got this concerned look. They conferred, and checked on boxes on the shelf. Finally, one woman explained that this was not a prescription item, and she gave me the prescription back. But, they didn't have the prescribed product. The prescription called for Step one of the patches. They only had the final step. But, two of the final step are the same level as one of the first step. So I bought two boxes. It seems that a lot of people buy the first step, to start quitting smoking, some people get to the second step. But the pharmacy didn't run out of the final step.
Anyway, I got back to the hotel, alive. and got Deb patched up. She did feel better, so it seems that they were right.
Because Deb had been so hurt yesterday, I wanted to talk to the dentist and get an understanding of what is going on. I was alarmed by her reaction. She was not feeling well and looked really shaky.
This morning, she looked a little better, but seemed listless and easily distracted. I was trying to urge her along, without getting bossy but trying to get her out in time to meet our taxi.
We returned to the dentist. After awhile, Deb was trembling, felt sick and had to get to somewhere cool. The general waiting room is not warm, just not kept very cool. They moved her into a small waiting room, with an air conditioner, and turned it up to maximum. She still felt nauseous.
Then they moved her to a dental suite, let her lay back in the chair, and put auxiliary oxygen on her. Even then she wasn't feeling good, so they called for emergency medical services. Three men showed up and examined her. They took her temperature, checked her pulse, blood pressure and generally checked her out.
They diagnosed her as being in nicotine withdrawal. She had been cutting way back on smoking, and as a result, she had a pretty bad reaction. They explained that nicotine withdrawal can be pretty severe. Combined with the stress of dental work, she had crossed some boundary, and her body was reacting badly.
The main guy, wrote out a prescription for a nicotine patch. They packed up, and wished us well. Deb stayed in the chair until she felt a little better, and we called a taxi.
I haven't really described traffic in San Jose. Briefly, it is very busy, very aggressive, and very crowded. Taxis are generally small diesel cars, manual transmission and driven by men with years of experience threading their vehicles through small openings.
That said, we get into a taxi, and the driver began fighting his way back to the Alta. We charged ahead, braked and then took off again. At one point, traffic stopped and we screeched to a halt. Deb was trying to keep from throwing up, while being jostled around in the taxi. When we finally reached the Alta, as we pulled around the tight drive, Deb bailed out of the moving taxi. I jumped out of my side, and went over to Deb as she threw up in the gutter. The doorman came over with a bottle of water, and Deb rinsed her mouth.
I got her up to our room, settled her into bed.
Back down to the front desk, talking to the clerk. "I need a taxi to take me to an ATM, and a farmacia."
"Yes," she said. Then paused as she translated what I said into Spanish.
She called a taxi, and I waited, hoping her grasp of English was better than my Spanish.
After a while, a red micro-bus came down the drive. The doorman spoke to the driver, and I climbed in.
This driver was not as good as our other drivers have been. He crowded the oncoming traffic. At one point, he cut off a driver who was trying to crowd him. But he did get me to a strip mall with a bank, and a pharmacy.
The bank gave me some local currency, for taxi fare. The pharmacy looked at my prescription, and the girl behind the counter got this concerned look. They conferred, and checked on boxes on the shelf. Finally, one woman explained that this was not a prescription item, and she gave me the prescription back. But, they didn't have the prescribed product. The prescription called for Step one of the patches. They only had the final step. But, two of the final step are the same level as one of the first step. So I bought two boxes. It seems that a lot of people buy the first step, to start quitting smoking, some people get to the second step. But the pharmacy didn't run out of the final step.
Anyway, I got back to the hotel, alive. and got Deb patched up. She did feel better, so it seems that they were right.
Debbie's Mouth
Debbie's mouth took a lot of work yesterday. Where we expected that they would take impressions, and fit her with temps to tide her over while permanent teeth are being made, she had two more teeth pulled. And she had two implants put in.
Part of the problem was that she sat in the dentist's chair so long that the anesthetic wore off. So she felt a lot more pain that she should have. On top of that, she was simply more shocked than I've ever seen her be from a dental procedure.
Deb has had a lot of dental work done over the years. She has experienced a lot of pain from various dental procedures. She is resistant to Novocaine; she doesn't get numb. As a result, dentists have to use alternate anesthetics. Over the years, she has had to prove this to new dentists repeatedly. Dr. Peralta believed her and did not test that fact as other dentists have in the past.
Part of the problem was that she sat in the dentist's chair so long that the anesthetic wore off. So she felt a lot more pain that she should have. On top of that, she was simply more shocked than I've ever seen her be from a dental procedure.
Deb has had a lot of dental work done over the years. She has experienced a lot of pain from various dental procedures. She is resistant to Novocaine; she doesn't get numb. As a result, dentists have to use alternate anesthetics. Over the years, she has had to prove this to new dentists repeatedly. Dr. Peralta believed her and did not test that fact as other dentists have in the past.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)