3rd World Dentists

Guinea is over. 100%. I still have no idea what's up next. But in the meantime, Peace Corps has been funneling 100 PCVs through this warp-speed medical process.

Which includes a trip to the dentist.
In Mali.

So I hop by myself into a PC car and drive away from the shacky/grimy areas of Bamako and all of a sudden we're in this beautiful luxurious high-class neighborhood of Bamako that looks as if it could be in Florida. My chauffer stops in front of a building and I get out, assuming that the dentist is somewhere around here. There's a door, and a stairwell and I start climbing stairs looking for a random dentist office. An African girl is waiting in the stairwell and motions for me to enter through a door. How did she know I'd be here at this exact time and where I wanted to go? I walk in.

And it's a waiting room. With a giant mirror and two doors. No receptionist desk. No "Bienvenue chez le dentiste" signs. Nothing but chairs, this huge mirror, and a funky looking plant. So I sit down in the chair, and wait. And I'm alone in this room hoping its the dentists office, but kind of hoping it's not and the Peace Corps will never find out because I'm terrified of dentists. Especially 3rd-world country ones. And then I hear drilling from behind the closed door. And I realize, I found the place.

Finally the door opens and my friend walks out with this horrified look on her face. She whispers "he's rough and doesn't use novocaine" and leaves me freaking out. An African woman scurries out behind her mopping the floor. And a Lebanese woman comes out and takes my name. I get ushered into "the room" and seated on the chair before I know what's going on. And this huge Lebanese man starts attacking my mouth. Turns out the Leb woman is his wife ... and they were shouting in Arabic at eachother the whole time. I'd get the occasional English command like "open" or "spit" but then when it was in French, it was a toss up as to whom it was directed. Me? The wife? He's yelling "A LOT! NOT A LITTLE!" and I'm debating whether to open wider to appease his anger or is his wife messing up the tools? No clue. And then when he starts saying "take it out" in English I start to panic- TAKE OUT WHAT?! My tooth? Turns out a filling fell out. But it didn't matter, because I had "a GOOD cavity." I don't get teeth-talk in English, let alone French or Arabic. I ended up getting (I think..) a cavity filled. No novocaine. He just started drilling, ignoring my kicking feet and flailing hands as he was chisiling out the nerve. I almost punched this angry yelling fool. But I couldn't punch him, because my hands were busy doing half the work because I was holding all the guaze in place. And then you know how dentists like to talk to you, and you can never answer.
"How are you? How's work?" Like what are you supposed to say? Does "agrrgmmmph" work?

Well this quack was a step WORSE. He's saying "okay, we filled the cavity. DO YOU SEE?" so not only can I not respond to this ignoramous because his (and my) hands were in my mouth, but HOW DO YOU REALLY THINK I CAN SEE INSIDE MY OWN DAMN MOUTH?

Ohh it was ridiculous. And painful. And I finally exited 30 minutes later in a state of shock with my heart racing faster than it has in months.

Which makes me say, Dr. Linkoff, I appreciate you. For all the times I hated going to sit in that chair of yours, I am sorry. I will never again complain. I promise.