the secret lives of dentists
Even though I am indebted to him for scooping the pulp out of my bum tooth, I am mad at my dentist right now. Because despite assurances from him and his staff, I have found out through my insurance company that he actually does not accept my dental insurance at all. And the bill for that root canal? $950. NINE HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS! And I already paid, because they assured me that once the insurance paperwork cleared, I would be getting it reimbursed. I guess that also explains the credit card bill I received that totally consumes the entire contents of my checking account.
Which leads me to the obvious question--how could you not know what insurance plans you take? I mean, how could you tell me that you're on a plan when the insurance company says you're not? At least his partner, who I saw for a follow up (and whose bill I am now eagerly awaiting) has an excuse--she's on some of the plans that my insurance carries, just not the one that I happen to be on. But he doesn't take my insurance at all. And I just paid him $950! I mean, I'm all for doctors getting paid, don't get me wrong, but that's the reason I have dental insurance in the first place! Does he know how much money that is for a resident? To anyone?
Damn you, dentists. I hope you're happy when Cal is all sad, swaddled in newspapers, chewing on a tin can, and his only toy is a twig tied with a piece of string.
Currently reading: Finished "The Other Boleyn Girl," (that book is quite a fast read, by the way) and now started "Epileptic." OK, that reminds me--can I tell you one thing about America vs. France? (I mean, not THE ONE THING, but one of the things.) People in France love comics. And because of that, comics are much more mainstream there. I don't mean the superhero comics and semi-pornographic manga that dominate the shelves here (though they have a few of those as well), but I mean they love literary comics, graphic novels, historical fiction, autobiographical comics. I walked into a large chain bookstore in Paris while we were there, and no kidding, the whole first floor was devoted to graphic novels of one form or another. I was flipping out with joy, until I realized I couldn't read any of them, as they had all been translated into French. Again, my high school skills have failed me. Anyway, my point being that "Epileptic" is the newest graphic novel that I've managed to get my hands on. The author, David B., is French.