Hoh-hoh-hoh

I Googled it, and it turns out that this really is a real word in French.

But I still wonder what Holden Caulfield would have to say about those Francophonies.

I'd Be a Horrible Spy

I spent the weekend putting together a quilt top. It's a wall quilt — an art quilt even — inspired by the rice paddies of Vietnam. In order to convey the irregularities that you find in a field that's farmed by hand, I decided to hand sew the quilt. No straight-lines and machine stitching for this gal! I started on Friday afternoon and finished putting on the border last night (with a break yesterday morning to find and drool over the Beijing fabric market).

As for the sewing, I only had to jam a needle under my thumbnail once before I talked. I told myself everything; I would never survive an interrogation.

People Will Pay You to Be Inhumane

I went to the dentist this morning and walked out with a filling and no Novocaine. Before you start imaging shades of Steve Martin in Little Shop of Horrors, let me start from the beginning.

I've been meaning to find a new dentist since I left Portland, but inertia is real. My procrastination bug doesn't help much either. I got a recommendation for a dentist in California, but dentists cost money and California is expensive. And doing things like visiting the dentist in Beijing is just downright scary. So while I got a referral from a well-connected Beijinger, it's taken me all year to make an appointment. Well, to get my Handler to make an appointment.

I am a big girl, however, and I figured I could manage the dentist on my own, so I left my Handler at home. (By all accounts, the dentist speaks plenty of English. I probably could have made the appointment myself.) I arrived on time, having not gotten lost walking around the block from the subway station to the apartment building housing the dentist's office (shades of Dragon Breath). However, unlike Dr. Osher's Biddeford office, this office was lovingly appointed, spacious, and welcoming (no horrible oil paintings of scary paint-by-number clowns here).

I filled out the requisite first-timer's form (that was mostly understandable). There was one term on it that I didn't understand at all, so I checked "no". I hope that was the right answer.

I was walked back to a spacious exam room and directed to hang my purse on the hook on the wall (no purses on the floor!). Then, my glasses were taken from me and the little blue bib was tied around my neck. (And I mean "tied", no metal roach clips here.) I was also greatly heartened to see a sink in the room (you do NOT want to know about the "cleanliness" of Chinese hospitals).

A couple of women came in the room, and I discovered that one was the dentist and one was the assistant. We talked briefly about my teeth and the slight gum recession I've noticed in the back of one of my teeth, and then she went in with the mirror and a poker tool thingy. And, ow. That hurt.

It turns out there is some inflammation in the gum behind one of my implants. Bu hao. However, my other teeth are looking great. Well, off we go to the x-ray room to have some x-rays taken. Each exam room does not have its own x-ray machine as you might have in the U.S., but this appears to be a pretty high-tech piece of machinery. It was a digital model, and as soon as my two snaps were done, they brought me into the observation booth to look at them on the computer.

Sure enough, there the swelling is indicative of problems around the one implant. Nothing hurts, so it seems that this is not an insurmountable problem, but she's going to put some medicine around the base of the tooth to help with the inflammation. There's also a dark spot around the tip of the root that has the crown on it. Now, I've known for years that that tooth isn't quite right, but I didn't figure it out until after the final crown went on. When Dr. Z. explained that it would mean taking the crown off and maybe re-doing the root canal, I decided to pass for the time being. It doesn't ache. I can't even feel it all the time. But sometimes I notice some sensation — which shouldn't happen in a tooth that has had the nerve destroyed. So, this bit of information doesn't really surprise me.

Back we go to the exam room (except we're going to a different exam room because there is a problem with the cleaning machine). But (not always sticklers for details) my purse and glasses have been left in the first room. I am walked back to get them, and there is a man in the chair having work done. I don't know if his work needs a different tool or if someone mistakenly put him in my room and they lied about it... but whatever.

There also seems to be excessive waiting. It is explained to me that many of the staff are upstairs at a class so they are a bit short-handed. Well, that's what I understand. I'm not sure if it's true or not. So after some more small-talk with the dentist (note: it is the dentist who is spending all her time with me, not the assistant) about implants, an assistant shows up and we're ready for a cleaning.

This is not your typical scrape 'em clean and leave the gums bleeding routine. Nope. The dentist picks up a machine that looks a lot like a dentists drill and starts running it along my gum line. It's not the most pleasant experience, but it's not horrible either. There are occasional moments where there's a sharp (but mild) jolt and sometimes I can hear a really really really high-pitched (and annoying) whine making me think this is some sort of newfangled sonic cleaning system, but it never really hurts. She tells me to be sure to raise my hand if at any time it hurts or I want a break. It's certainly no worse than an old-skool scrape, though, and I manage to soldier through.

In the middle of my cleaning, she finds a small cavity, so she's just going to fill it right then and there. Uh, OK. (At this point I start to wonder about the size of the bill and if I have enough money in my account to pay for this and eat for the last week of the month.) And, without any further ado (and by "ado" I mean Novocaine), she proceeds to drill and fill my tooth. She pauses briefly to tell me that it might be a little sore, and I question if by "a little" she really means "a lot". She demurs that she really only means a little. We'll see.

And the thing is, it doesn't hurt. I guess it's a really small cavity and we might as well fill it now before it gets bad enough to hurt. It takes about 5 minutes, and when she asks me to bite on that read paper they way they do, I get to teach her the phrase "grind your teeth" because I can't think of a better word to describe what she wants done (even though most dentists don't encourage grinding). And then she finishes cleaning my teeth.

I'll say this about the ultrasonic cleaning system: it is quick.

On the other side of my mouth, she discovers the slight gum recession that prompted this entire trip. That one isn't as bad as the one near my implant (maybe because there has always been less gum there and it's always been a little bit sore since the accident, I didn't notice a change). She'll put some medicine (antibiotic, I assume) on my gum, but we'll take a wait-and-see approach to everything else. Nothing is causing me any pain, and she doesn't seem too concerned, so I'll go back in six months (which I should do anyway) and we'll see if there are any changes for the worse.

And then it was time to pay. She filled out a little checklist and gave me her card, and I was walked back to the door.

I was charged a one-time fee, and then for a cleaning, a filling, two x-rays, and the antibiotic treatment. The grand total: 380 kuai. That's less than $60. Damn.