Dental Work

Dentist

One spring day, many years ago, I took my boys out of school so that I could fly them to an exotic location, there having been so many that I don't recall the destination. That was the only day of school my son Karl has ever missed. Karl has not been sick a single day in his twenty three years.

In April he to a detour while riding home on his bike from a bar late at night. After face planting into a parked automobile he found himself absent an upper incisor and with two chipped bicuspids. Shortly thereafter the other upper incisor was pulled to complete that West Virginia Mobile Home look.

Today we start to rectify the situation. A dentist in San Jose Costa Rica was highly recommended by a woman in Bocas who had the full complement of her dentition replaced. Karl awoke after a restless night, we had a bountiful breakfast and were driven to the dentist's office by a driver, Maurice, a service that is included in the fees as is pickup and drop off from the airport. Accustomed to overblown dental offices in Southlake, Texas designed to impress the little attached building did little to appease Karl's growing apprehension. We met the doctor for the first time and Karl was handed a stack of medical disclaimers. I watched him read them with his forehead on his hand possibility of stroke, paralysis, bleeding, coronary failure, death among other warnings followed the description of every procedure include local anaesthetic. “Karl, all your friends have had local anaesthetics, it's no big deal.” Karl has never had a cavity so this is new to him. After that, it's just a couple of holes drilled in the head and some screws. Buck up, Bucko.

Karl entered the dental chair and was quickly examined and was offered two options. In the traditional approach a couple of holes are drilled, the screws inserted and the gums stitched shut. The jaw is given four to six months to heal and fuse to the screws. The doctor also offered a second option in which the teeth are immediately affixed to the screws. Nothing harder than baby food can be eaten for six months and any errant tap on the teeth by a beer bottle (more likely) or a coffee cup could cause the formation of fibrous tissue rather than bones. Overhearing this, I walked in and had a brief talk with Karl. “Don't worry about me flying you down here again. Don't be crazy. You can't go six months eating oatmeal. This is just an excuse to get you down here again.” OK, doc, just the screws today.

Laughing gas, local anaesthesia, more nitrous oxide. While Karl, buzzing under the gas was taking pictures of himself with his cell phone the doctor set about drilling and screwing. An hour later all was done and Karl walked out with a bloody mouth full of gauze. We were given two prescriptions for pain and one for antibiotics. Maurice drove us to the pharmacy where the prescriptions were filled for $23. Ummm, about these syringes. Fortunately the pharmacist took Karl aside and gave him a shot in the ass. I've never injected a human and didn't feel the need to practice on my older son. Maurice took Karl back to the house where he quickly found sleep.

Glasses

Margot needed some eyewear. I had related home much less expensive eyeglasses were in Panama and that exams were free. We throught we'd give CR a shot. Maurice dropped us off in front of an optical store/pharmacy/restaurant. Few frames were displayed but Margot approached the counter and was met by a very heavily made up trans-sexual or transvestite with an extremely large cleft chin as the most prominent feature on a very large head. The cleft must have been an inch and a half long and at least 3/8” deep. It was akin to having a small ass at the base of her face above which was enough makeup to make a small pancake and a couple of whisk brooms attached to her eyelids. I stood back to watch the show.

The optician kept insisting on frames gaudily adorned on the temples of the outrageously colored frames. Each pair was presented to Margo. Rather than just rejecting them outright she courteously feigned the possibility that they might be appropriate for her. After taking them off the optician would don them and flutter his long eyelashes and say “Beautiful!”, the lashes near reaching the lenses. Every pair, same thing. Eventually a suitable pair was found for $130 for frames and lenses.

An old man, the optometrist gave Margot an exam. No time was wasted on glaucoma, color blindness, or any fancy machines that would give an automatic determination of initial estimate of prescription. Just an old fashioned eye chart consisting of symbols of a wide letter E in each of four positions. That done, as Margot was paying for the glasses I spotted a Tica, all boobs, big butt, tight skirt, tight blouse and high heels standing in the doorway. I looked at the old man. He made no attempt to disguise the shit eating grin on his face as he caught my eye and tried to point out that which could not be missed.

Museum of Modern Art

That taken care of we walked to the Museum of Modern Art. Margot felt it my manly responsibility to navigate. Sorry, that's just laughable. If a sense of direction is required to get a man badge, mine would have been yanked from my sash a long time ago. Still, with a map in hand we found our way to a converted house with a locked front door. Hmmm. Ok, the guy came and let us in.

The first room had a large sheet of canvas with some bullet holes painted on it. After that, things go so bad that it was great. This museum was a parody of modern art. One room had as the masterpiece, a collection of cardboard boxes painted with blue clouds were strewn about on the floor. It made a statement to me. A folding wooden ruler with a spoon affixed was hanging by a fishing line from the ceiling. Damn, I was museum worthy in first grade except I would have had my ass slapped for screwing a spoon to a perfectly good carpentry tool. I was relieved to find that Margot found no merit to any of the pieces. I would have had to leave her there.

What next?

Don't want to see the pre-colombian gold museum? Ok, I'll be back some day. Books. The lady needs books. Strange. Bookstore after bookstore with books in English. Costa Rica is the Walt Disney World of Central America authentic only in being true to the Costa Rica, bring on the tourists machine. Ok, now what? Call Maurice, “take me home.” On the way I saw a Colombia sportswear store. My only pair of long pants, cargo nylon, convertible to shorts has disappeared, perhaps dragged off into the jungle by one of my puppies, perhaps in some strange void into which things disappear and then reappear in my little house. Who knows? But I need a pair of long pants for jungle walks.

Popping in the store I found the exact pair. Then another pair and a couple of long sleeved fishing guide shirts and a rain jacket. Margot pointed out that I amused the woman. Really? I was just buying shit. Who knows? Maybe people don't go in their store and buy $400 worth of shit in six minutes very often.

Back to the house/hotel. Karl rises from the dead. Dinner, games, chat, mystery dive watch gift received and off to bed.