7-6 Keszthely, the dentist, and more language issues

7-6

We started the day off, as we always do, with breakfast and the paper on the deck. The paper is the local rag, BORS. Compared to the other Hungarian language papers I have seen, it is only mildly pornographic. It does, however, have a resonably reliable weather forcast - 85 degrees and hot today. Sounds like a nice day to visit the dentist...

...who doesn't open until one. To stall, we wandered down to the Centrum for a cord to connect the camera to the computer. We forgot ours at home, and it seems, won't be able to get a replacement downtown. The nice guy at the computer store burnt us a disc of what we have, though.

After a quick lunch, and a thorough brushing (you do it too, come on, admit it), we made our way back to the dentist. There is good dentistry in Hungary, but it is all no-frills stuff. Z has filled my head with stories about lack of novocain and other fun things like that - just do the job and get out. To say that I am a bit apprehensive would be an understatement. Oh, and of course, we don!t share a language. Z, thoughtfully, has taught me the word "ouch" in Hungarian on the way over. Should you ever happen to need it, the word is "Faj" and pronounced "Fie."

We were admitted after a short break and the dentist had us in to explain the problem. I got to try out the chair and look at the tray of little sharp, pointy, whirly thingies that would soon be attacking my mouth. The dentist found it all to be no problem, and told us to come back that afternoon at 3:30. A same day appointment at the dentist? Boy, we really aren't in Kansas any more.

Z told me on the way home the first thing he said to the dental assistaint when I sat down in the chair was "hand me a diaper." It wasn't for concern about me completely loosing it. That's what they use for drool rags in Hungary - nice.

So, 3:30. There I am, sitting in the chair, agonizing over the novicain shots they kindly gave me, and the drilling starts. The tooth dust is everywhere, as it will do, and that sickening smell of ground tooth is in the air. At this point, when you are feeling most vulnerable, the dentist and aid, who, mind, have been nothing but cooly professional all day, exchange a quick sentence and begin cackling evilly over the top of me. This went on for about 10 minutes, with me having fantasies the whole time of all my teeth being ground to dust. Then came three attempts at getting an impression of my teeth - evidently the compound used wasn't setting correctly. Then he shoved some weird light device into my teeth, followed by muted cursing - of course raising my confidence level. After that we were allowed to leave. I don't think I ran.

Z filled me in afterward. The laughing had to do with the detist's daily trip to the beach to go swimming - the reason he doesn't open until after 1. The light thing is a color matching device for the enamel on my teeth so they can make a replacement the same color. The nurse evidently told him that he never can get that thing to work, and he should just use the color pallet-stick things, that he ended up using anyway. He told Z I don't get a temporary - I shouldn't need it. Oh, and the best part. I get to go back next week and have him set the crown - Joy!

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More language issues... How do you explain the difference between "brake light" and "breaking news?" Vera would like to know.