Modern Dentistry

A month ago I went to the dentist that En found out here for a routine cleaning. Unfortunately (well, fortunately I suppose), she found that I had shipped off one of the cusps of my upper right molar.Today was the day of the fixing.

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I remember growing up going to the dentist. In many ways I wish I didn't. The overriding criteria for the decision-making process was that he spoke Hungarian. The quality of work combined with his eagerness to do the work were both questionable. I grew up with all sorts of work. Poorly dune. Poorly anesthetized. Poor workmanship. And so forth. The smell of vaporized calcium is a familiar one to me.En's mom used to be a dental assistant. More than that she was an oral surgeon's assistant. People see the oral surgeon after the dentist fucks up. They know who's good. Actually they know who's bad and by deduction they know who's good. En's dentist was (and presumably still is) good. After moving she found another winner.

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The fact I didn't feel any pain today was a good thing. The work was well done. Lots of water was used to keep the tooth dust down -- no smell, no grit. She took the time to talk to me and look over my janky night bite guard. She chatted when I could talk.

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Modern?Or just plain compassionate?