Dental distress

On Tuesday, I went preaching with David. After eating lunch at a buffet, I noticed that one of my back teeth felt strange. Sure enough, when I got home, half of my upper right molar cracked and fell out! This was a little more serious than allergies, so I made an appointment for the next day with a local dental clinic recommended by Bethel, called ADA (which stands for Aide Dentaire Afrique, not American Dental Association).

Perhaps this was bound to happen sooner or later, the result of my not having seen a dentist in nearly 10 years. So it was with some misgivings that I set off on Wednesday. (It's a good thing I got in to see a dentist that day, because the next day, Thursday, May 1, was another holiday: Labour Day.) Here's a picture of the clinic:

Whoa, wrong picture! Sorry...it's a little further down the street:






OK, maybe it doesn't look that impressive on the outside. 

(I ended up paying these two boys 100Rwf each after they put themselves in my picture.)

But here's the inside...









Well, the clinic is as close to modern as anything you would see in the U.S. No string attached to the doorknob. No pliers. Very professional.

I first spoke to one of the dentists, a young man who asked me in halting English about my symptoms, then took X-rays, revealing that the broken molar still had its roots--which is why there was no pain--but also that my molar on the other side had a deep cavity. He said, however, that because his equipment was not working properly, he would refer me to the dentist in the next room. And then added: "So how's your French?" That's because the other dentist, who would actually do the filling and cleaning, spoke only French and Kinyarwanda. I said, well, I could function, but French dental terms are not my forte.

With that in mind, I settled into the dental chair and tried to relax, that is, as much as is humanly possible in anticipation of a needle about to be inserted in your gums. And then the series of commands:

"Ouvrez"

"Fermez"

"Mâchez"

Hey, if I didn't know the French word for "spit" before, I know it now ("crachez").

Quick digression: Sometimes there are certain words that burn their mark in your brain, such as the expression for "tow away," when I was in Paris years ago ("mise en fourrière"). Funny how you don't forget things like that.

Then she (the dentist) explained to me in French how to use these toothpick-like sticks to insert between your teeth to remove food particles and plaque. (Thank goodness the instructions on the package are in English.)

Today, I returned to get a crown on my broken molar. Good as new!

So here's what I ended up getting:

Consultation
X-ray
Cavity filled
Cleaning
Crown installed

Grand total: 118600Rwf (US$172)!

If this work had been done in the States, I'm sure it would have cost thousands of dollars. So my having the dental work done here in Rwanda basically paid for my plane ticket...and then some. I never felt better about paying $170 for something anytime before in my life. Considering that Bethel uses this particular dental clinic, I have confidence that they do quality work.

Another health crisis (almost): After going to the dentist, that evening I felt so-so at the meeting. Then, the next day, I dragged myself to go preaching in the morning, but when I returned home at noon, I went straight to bed. My thought was, it must be some kind of reaction to the dental work. Six hours later, Philbert called and woke me up. He wanted to invite me to accompany him when he gives a Kingdom Hall dedication talk on May 25. Then, he said, Brian, your voice sounds strange, are you OK? I replied, well, I have a headache, body aches, slight sweats, and  fatigue. He said, we had better take you to the hospital to have you checked out, because you never know what it might be (i.e., malaria, typhoid). So I pulled myself together, we went off to the hospital, and I took some blood tests. Everything checked out normal. It was just a case of flu. So they prescribed me some medicine, and after a few days I was fine. OK, that experience set me back $40. It seems most of my money here in Rwanda is going toward medical expenses, but I suppose it comes with the territory.

And now, some preaching notes: On Thursday, Ernest, Victor, and I went to Masaka Hospital, which is about a 35-minute drive from Remera. We had been told there were Chinese doctors working at this hospital.

At some point on the way, we left the tarmac and it was all rough dirt road the rest of the way. The hospital is located in a true Rwandan 'village.' Since it was a public holiday, the Chinese were not working. However, they live in a compound right next to the hospital.

We first ran into some construction workers, who in rough, heavily accented Chinese basically waved us off once they learned what we were there for. Then, we met some of the Chinese doctors. Quite a different response! Very refined and polite. One of them asked, if you have an English meeting, where is it so that we may possibly attend? I placed some tracts and showed the video. They had to leave for a special meeting at the hospital (even on a day off), so we left and returned to town.

On Tuesday evening I went to see Liu Ming Yue, my return visit who works at the Bamboo restaurant (with the grand piano). Unfortunately, he was tied up with work and apparently felt bad that we had to wait quite awhile for him until essentially it was too late to talk, so he brought us sizzling beef and spicy tofu, on the house! So even though we didn't end up having a discussion, we did get a nice meal, with leftovers...