Russian dentistry

First of all, let me tell you how my day went.

I have been sick for a week or so, and haven't been out of the house. I had a dental appointment today, and since I was feeling better, it seemed like a good idea to go ahead and make it. The temperature was fantastic outside, a balmy 0 degrees! I was fired up!

Lena suggested that after the dentist, maybe we could stop and get me a haircut, go to the post office, (To mail some of you cards. Those whose addresses I have.) and on the way back, stop and buy the hat I had ordered. It sounded like a plan.

Did you ever notice how seldom plans go the way they are supposed to go?

We get to the bus-stop, and Lena suggests we hitch a lift, otherwise we will be late to the dentist. No problem for me, so I watch her flag us down a ride, and pile into the back.

On the way, Lena reminded me that I was going to a new dentist today. See, we had been spending about $15.00 per dental visit on me, and she thought it would be a good idea to economize. I was a bit disappointed, since she told me earlier that this dentist was a full ten years older, and 25 pounds heavier than the other dentist, but what the heck. I can survive the sacrifice. The point is getting the teeth done, right?

A few things I am discovering about Russia. The price of something is usually affected by how far it is from a subway station or a good municipal transport route. The good dentist has a van that drops you off across the street. Very convenient. The public transport for this one drops you off about half a mile away. OK, no big deal. If we can save a couple dollars, I'm in.

Another thing about Russia. The less expensive something is frequently influences the size of the line. Lena told me we would have to wait an hour or so probably. I really didn't mind, since an hour wait at a doctor’s office doesn't seem too unreasonable to me anyway. That seems a bit long, but not much longer than waits in the US. This time, we got lucky. The office was pretty much deserted. We go in, hang up the coats, put on the slippers, and pad our way to the office. We are 'invited' in to the inner sanctum, and I am introduced to a pleasant, (Not gorgeous) smiling lady who motions me to a dental chair. I sit, and she begins her examination.

Apparently, my teeth are not in the best of shape. Were I a horse, you would not buy me. She gave me a couple of sprays of pain killer, I asked for nitris oxide, she sprayed some more, I asked again, she broke out something that looked like a torture device from the middle ages, with a needle sticking out of (at least) one end of it, and came at me with a sardonic smile, and a glint in her eye. I asked her if she had ever seen Marathon Man, and she said "Yes. I enjoyed it. Very good movie."

I was beginning to be afraid. She barked some orders to unseen peoples in the room, and leaned in with this syringe.

To say it hurt would understate it, but lets leave it at that. I don't feel like debasing myself any further.

We eventually got the injections done, and she began to work on prying plaque off, scraping, whittling, grinding, and God knows what all to my teeth, the whole time explaining that what I really need is some treatment they give down the hall. She explained that with the different problems I had, there was a limited amount of things she could do, but her colleague down the hall could help me also, in conjunction with her, and they would have me right eventually.

Now is when I discovered something else about Russian prices. Frequently, the less expensive something is, the less highly developed the technology is.

I asked her about this treatment, and with Lenas help, I was led to understand that they wanted to take me in another room, and attach leeches to my gums, bleeding me for an hour or so. It would do me a world of good, she assured me.

When you are half-sedated, and a lady who is prying around in your mouth suggests a good-ole fashioned bleeding as a way to solve your ills, you begin to feel funny.

I laughed.

I couldn't help it. It wasn't funny at all, but I laughed.

She assured me it was safe, and went on a spiel about enzymes and lowering my blood pressure, and all sorts of things that these leeches would do for me.

I looked at Lena, and she said, "I know girls who do it. Of course, if you are a coward, you don't have to. It is up to you."

"This should make a hell of a letter..." I thought. (See what I do for you people!) "I'll do it!" I said, as sure of myself as I would be for the rest of the visit.

We went from that office, down the hall, around the corner, and signed up for a bleeding.

At this point, I am beginning to question the whole concept of saving money like this. I don't mind doing without cheese on a burger, but this may be going a bit far for economy. I asked Lena how much the dentist had cost us, and she said 200 roubles. (50 of that was cuz I was a sissy and needed anesthesia. Apparently they would have done it without painkillers for 150.) 200 roubles is about 7 dollars, so we did save a lot.

"How much will it be for the leeches?" I asked, trying to get a fix on the whole economy thing.

"40 roubles."

Now gang, 40 roubles is about a buck and a half. A bit less than that. If anything is a bargain, being bled by leeches for under two dollars has GOT to be a bargain.

The door opens, some incredibly pale guy leaves, and a nice, older lady invites us inside. We go in, and on the table, by the window, near a dentist chair is, I swear to God, some pickle jars, with some slimy brown animals crawling up the sides. Pickle jars. No nice little scientific containers, not at under two bucks a pop. Here, you get leeches from a pickle jar.

I imagined, when I agreed to this thing, to leeches about the size of a pencil eraser. I thought they would be very small. Boy, was I wrong. These things, though not anacondas, were about the size of a crayon.

I was having second thoughts.

The lady began to explain it to me, and tell me that I didn't have to do it. I could back out at anytime. (She said this like people have changed their minds. Who would've thought that?) In the meantime, she began to give me a bit of background on leeches.

These particular leeches have 270 teeth. She was going to take one, put it in my mouth, on my gums, and let it bite me. It would then act as a pump, sucking out blood, and putting in all those wonderful leech-enzymes that we all so desperately lack. After a while, it would drop off. At that point in time, she would put it in a jar for me, and I could take it home. Take it home. I could take this thing home.

She suggested that I may want to name it. Apparently, it was going to eat two years worth of food from me, (Assuming I didn't bolt.) so it wouldn't NEED to be fed for a long time. Another option is, if I wanted to come back for subsequent bleedings, I could have this one as my own personal leech. (I tried to explain to her that I have kids, but she didn't seem to understand.) The third option is they would flush it down the toilet.

At this point, she reaches into a jar, pulls out a slimy, brown, wiggly leech, and says, "Would you like to continue?........"

This is part 2 of the dentist saga.

OK, when I last left you, I was being given a chance to run screaming like a little girl from the room, or I could have another one of those wonderful 'experiences' I am so high on. (Frankly, they are becoming a bit over-rated. The last few haven't been a lot of fun.)

As most of you would imagine, I stuck it out and decided to be bled. I mean, how often, in this century, do we get a chance to be bled. Come to think of it, this finally is the new millennium, and one of the first things I did was go in for an old fashioned blood-letting! Damn, that makes me feel good about having done it.

Anyway, the lady gave me a chance to back out, but I told her to go for it. I wanted to see what it was all about.

In her speech about bloodletting, she had mentioned that being sucked on by a leech was good for your blood pressure, heart disease, complexion, masculine energy, and I think it may have helped with world peace also. She was really high on people getting this done.

First thing she does is stuff my mouth with cotton, then she goes to the jar.

She comes at me with this leech, and it looks like a worm essentially. A night crawler, without the dirt.

She pulls my lower lip down, and puts this thing on my gums, just below my bottom teeth. I am a bit sedated there still, so I don't feel a lot when it bites, but it DOES bite. It can be felt. She apparently doesn't like the first leech, or the way it was leeching, so she went back to the jar, and got another one. This one fairly jumped out of her hand to attack me. This damn leech was anti-American, or it liked American food, one or the other. I think it was named ‘Blitzkrieg’ it had all the subtlety of a Hunter S. Thompson weekend. I felt as though I had been attacked.

She seemed pleased, and I am sitting there in the dentist chair, with her crooning to me in a lovely voice, but in a language I don't speak well yet. Lena is snapping a few pictures, but then she has to take a rest. This lady is extolling the virtues of leeches like you couldn't imagine. She is one heck of a leech lady. She is a true believer.

Anyway, this process goes on and on. In the beginning, having a slug stuck to your gums may seem like a good idea, but after about half an hour, the novelty wears off. Then you are stuck with the cold, slivering body squirming around on your lip, and the lady pulling down to hard on your mouth, making you think this may be how Sammy Davis Jr. got started. I was beginning to doubt my decision, when she communicated to Lena that we were about halfway done.

Halfway done. I was amazed. I have to tell you, when you are in a foreign country, in an office you have never been in, and you have a leech hanging out of your mouth like some flaccid Dick Tracy cigarette, time goes by VERY slowly.

You ever tried to flirt with a leech on yer lip? You ever tried to be witty when all you can say is, "grr grrrr rrrr gggrrrrr?" It aint easy.

Eventually, the time passed, and she pulled this thing off of my gum. Lena took a picture, then almost hit the floor. She had to be given smelling salts, (Which STRANGELY enough, they keep close at hand....) but she came right around. In the confusion, my leech got thrown out. It was really too bad. They suggest that you use the leech for when you come back for subsequent bleedings. One leech can do 5 bleedings, then you have to go to a new model.

The lady explains that my mouth will be filling up with blood every few seconds, and I should feel free to spit it out, or swallow, depending on my location. She gave me some cotton to take with me, and she put some in my mouth before I left. She told me that I could eat or drink anything I wanted, as of now. (I am gushing blood like Spindletop at the beginning of the oil boom....) She said the bleeding shouldn't last more than six hours. Apparently, something the leeches give you while sucking your blood causes you to bleed a LOT after they are done. (Damned wasteful, if you ask me.) She also said that I would notice a gelatin like substance forming in my mouth, and coating my gums. This was caused by the leeches also. She said it was a GOOD thing, but that I wouldn't be able to stand the feel, as it would begin to fill my mouth up eventually. Tolerate it as best I could, and tear it out, spit it out, or get it out however I chose to whenever it became too much of a hassle.

Apparently, getting bled is the fun part.

We left.

I decided I didn't want to go to the haircutting place. I am spitting blood like Mrs. Mike Tyson, mouth all swelled up, and can’t imagine sitting in the hairstylist’s chair like this. I suggested we get on a bus, go buy my hat, and get home.

Remember, this is a cheaper dentist. Now we have to walk half a mile or so to get to the bus line. We do, stopping at the post office on the way.

We get on the bus, ride it for half an hour or so, and get off at the Akademichskaya subway station. We go in the market there, buy some oregano, spaghetti noodles, hamburger, and tomato paste. (OK detectives, what is OUR plan?) From there, it is a simple hop, skip, and a spit to the clothes market, where dude should have my hat. I ordered it a week or so ago.

He was there, he had it, (600 roubles) and I got it. No bunny, no squirrel, and thank God, it was not raccoon. It is arctic fox. Kind of cool looking. You can see me in it in some of the upcoming pictures.

Kravavy Dave