Finally my 18 months of being a friend of Elliot’s has paid off: today I got to visit him at his new dental practice! Yes, he’s finally found somewhere worthy of his skills – Tennant & Gianni (& Singer, soon) in Berkeley. I wandered down sunny Telegraph Avenue to his new building and was soon sitting in the waiting room, circling ‘no’ to the sixty-plus diseases the health questionnaire asked me about. ‘How do you feel about the appearance of your teeth?’ was the last question. ‘Fine – I’m British’ I wrote.
Then there he was, Dr Singer, dressed in a surgical coat and sporting a wide grin. He looked like he would soon be enjoying himself. I had a couple of x-rays and then I was in his chair and at his mercy.
“You have a big mouth,” was his first comment, surely a compliment from a dentist. He then proceeded to poke, tap, scrape, and generally pass judgment on all aspects of my oral hygiene. "You drink a lot of tea and coffee," he commented. Given that a large proportion of that drinking happens with him around I wasn't giving any points there.
After that it was time for cleaning, which involved an ultrasonic thing and lots of water followed by some polishing. “Would you like choco-mint, cinnamon mint, or orange popsicle toothpaste?” he asked, adding: “Don’t worry, they’re all disgusting.”
An hour-and-three-quarters later and I was back on my feet. I thought it might have been slightly strange to have a friend poke around my mouth with scary metal instruments, but Elliot was the consummate professional and my teeth feel strange being so clean. I even got a free toothbrush.
I was his first and last patient of the day (ever in this new practice, actually, which might have explained why he didn’t know where anything was) and so my new dentist gave me a lift to the nearest bus stop. You don’t get that on the National Health Service.
Say: ahhhhhhh!
