1.
I watched it happen, albeit slowly, over the last year. It was a tiny chunk of something gray and hard, sitting on my tongue. As I fished it out, I reminded myself that my tooth fillings are old now. They were not ever meant to live forever in my aging teeth. But, we were in Covid lockdown. My dentist’s office voicemail message told me to just go to a walk-in clinic if need be. They were closed until who knows when!
What would the walk-in clinic really be able to do?
So I waited. And fished out other tiny chunks of old fillings, as well as small bits of broken teeth due to increasing vulnerability. Then my crown fell out into my hand. Me being me, I watched a few You Tube videos about two-part temporary dental cement and learned how to re-set my crown. Thinking the Covid stuff was going to keep going for awhile, I bought the 50-pack of individual two-part epoxy packets.
Once my dentist’s office re-opened, I remembered how much condescension I had felt with him last time I was in his care. By then, no dentists in my area were taking in new patients.
Oh, crap. Now what?
Then I lost the damn crown this past Fall! On top of three upper teeth disintegrating over the remaining months of this last year. And one other tooth was heading into a slow destructive cycle.
Doors seem to always open as needed if I pay attention. A good friend sold her house in Vermont and bought a small trailer in a RV park in Yuma, Arizona ...for a few winters, anyway.
Twenty minutes from Yuma, west along Interstate 8, across the California state line, then south on CA-186, is the border with Mexico.
I spent the early Fall researching “dental tourism” in Los Algodones, Mexico. Who the hell knew? Okay, I had heard about Americans and Canadians living in the desert in Arizona, trying to stretch their meager Social Security monthly payments. They try to pay for what the North American countries don’t cover for basic dental and pharmaceutical needs.
I watched all the the RVer video clips about dental clinics in Los Algodones I could find online, read every review of every dentist doing business along the border. I researched implants in case they might be needed, and stockpiled bits of cash into my travel checking/debit account. I narrowed down choices, and made consultation appointments with two clinics for my pal and I--moral support, safety in numbers. Whatever might be needed. I scheduled for December 13th: one in the morning, one in the afternoon. And then I let my nervous system rumble in the background—reminding myself that many people do this kind of thing, survive to tell the story, and even swear by the experience.
Then, I packed up the truck for six months, and hit the road in early December.
I watched it happen, albeit slowly, over the last year. It was a tiny chunk of something gray and hard, sitting on my tongue. As I fished it out, I reminded myself that my tooth fillings are old now. They were not ever meant to live forever in my aging teeth. But, we were in Covid lockdown. My dentist’s office voicemail message told me to just go to a walk-in clinic if need be. They were closed until who knows when!
What would the walk-in clinic really be able to do?
So I waited. And fished out other tiny chunks of old fillings, as well as small bits of broken teeth due to increasing vulnerability. Then my crown fell out into my hand. Me being me, I watched a few You Tube videos about two-part temporary dental cement and learned how to re-set my crown. Thinking the Covid stuff was going to keep going for awhile, I bought the 50-pack of individual two-part epoxy packets.
Once my dentist’s office re-opened, I remembered how much condescension I had felt with him last time I was in his care. By then, no dentists in my area were taking in new patients.
Oh, crap. Now what?
Then I lost the damn crown this past Fall! On top of three upper teeth disintegrating over the remaining months of this last year. And one other tooth was heading into a slow destructive cycle.
Doors seem to always open as needed if I pay attention. A good friend sold her house in Vermont and bought a small trailer in a RV park in Yuma, Arizona ...for a few winters, anyway.
Twenty minutes from Yuma, west along Interstate 8, across the California state line, then south on CA-186, is the border with Mexico.
I spent the early Fall researching “dental tourism” in Los Algodones, Mexico. Who the hell knew? Okay, I had heard about Americans and Canadians living in the desert in Arizona, trying to stretch their meager Social Security monthly payments. They try to pay for what the North American countries don’t cover for basic dental and pharmaceutical needs.
I watched all the the RVer video clips about dental clinics in Los Algodones I could find online, read every review of every dentist doing business along the border. I researched implants in case they might be needed, and stockpiled bits of cash into my travel checking/debit account. I narrowed down choices, and made consultation appointments with two clinics for my pal and I--moral support, safety in numbers. Whatever might be needed. I scheduled for December 13th: one in the morning, one in the afternoon. And then I let my nervous system rumble in the background—reminding myself that many people do this kind of thing, survive to tell the story, and even swear by the experience.
Then, I packed up the truck for six months, and hit the road in early December.
2.
December 13th:
We drive the interstate into California, passing by billboards of every major dental clinic in Los Algodones. I had watched the videos, so I knew what to expect. We find the Native-run parking lot on the US side of the border, and turn into the lot after a line of other cars. $6 per day.
Once parked, we walk across the border through a fenced-in walkway, through a turnstile, through the actual steel border wall, and into downtown Los Algodones.
I was even prepared for the bombardment of sellers:
“Need a dentist?”
“Need pharmacy?”
“Need eyeglasses?”
“Want to buy x? Or y? Or z?…. $20, almost free”
Since we already have dentist clinics scheduled for free consultations/x-rays, and I had screen-shot Google map sections showing us where to go, we easily find our way directly to our first clinic in a small mall near our border crossing.
Maybe our home dentists have the newest technologies now (it’s been a few years for me, so who knows for sure), and because of Covid, we couldn’t have known about tech upgrades…
Or, these Mexican border dental clinics are in such competition, they have invested in all the latest tech equipment.
We sit in the dentist chairs, immediate x-rays happening up on wall monitor screens. Need a CT scan? No problem: they can do that on premises too. In-house labs for creating 3D printable Zirconium crowns, and bridges? Yep, that too!
Estimate for my friend: @ $8,000
Estimate for me: just under $10,000 (package includes three nights at a local cheap hotel, and shuttle services to the Yuma airport, not needed by me.)
Clinic #2 gives me different options: fractures? No issue, they tell me. Implants could happen….or a bridge across the three broken-tooth gap. While I absorb the info, the recommendations, my pal decides her next move with this clinic. Since we both feel “yes” here. I stay for a greatly needed cleaning: only $30 US. They prefer US dollars, half in cash, or better yet, all in cash.
We pay for the day and make appointments for the next day'
December 14th:
My pal wraps up her permanent crown and one more filling, skirting any need for root canals: $480 total, including the cleaning. Yahoo!
My second day with Castle Dental and Dr Giovanny consists of part one of my five teeth: prep for two crowns on upper right side of mouth, and two crown connection points for the bridge I decided on rather than implants. I receive the temporary crowns, and make an appointment for day three.
December 15th:
Braving the border crossing alone on day three, I know the routine. There are the sellers: “I have a better dentist…my cousin…..etc”
“I already have a dentist…all set…..thank you,” I say, again and again, as I turn left at the four-way intersection and head down the block to Castle Dental. Manuel, as he came to introduce himself, recognizes me from the previous two days, shakes my hand, and refrains from the hard sell.
Day three: permanent crowns in my upper right, and two extractions with two bone grafts in the upper left. Once the bone graphs are done and sewn up (oh, yes, a bit of oral surgery here), the temporary bridge is attached, and Dr Giovanny writes a script for an antibiotic and a mild pain killer. I make my appointments for two days in a row in early March and put a wad of $50’s and $20’s on the reception counter. After the bone grafts heal (three months), the permanent bridge will be attached.
We pay for the day and make appointments for the next day'
December 14th:
My pal wraps up her permanent crown and one more filling, skirting any need for root canals: $480 total, including the cleaning. Yahoo!
My second day with Castle Dental and Dr Giovanny consists of part one of my five teeth: prep for two crowns on upper right side of mouth, and two crown connection points for the bridge I decided on rather than implants. I receive the temporary crowns, and make an appointment for day three.
December 15th:
Braving the border crossing alone on day three, I know the routine. There are the sellers: “I have a better dentist…my cousin…..etc”
“I already have a dentist…all set…..thank you,” I say, again and again, as I turn left at the four-way intersection and head down the block to Castle Dental. Manuel, as he came to introduce himself, recognizes me from the previous two days, shakes my hand, and refrains from the hard sell.
Day three: permanent crowns in my upper right, and two extractions with two bone grafts in the upper left. Once the bone graphs are done and sewn up (oh, yes, a bit of oral surgery here), the temporary bridge is attached, and Dr Giovanny writes a script for an antibiotic and a mild pain killer. I make my appointments for two days in a row in early March and put a wad of $50’s and $20’s on the reception counter. After the bone grafts heal (three months), the permanent bridge will be attached.
As I sit in the chair, Dr. Giovanny digitally scans my mouth and teeth into a 3D representation onto the monitor. I watch my tooth map show every filling, gap, root. With a marker, he explains, in English, what he is seeing, what he suggests, what he needs permission to do if need be (root canals that I do not want unless absolutely necessary). At no time am I treated with condescension. He is respectful, amiable, flexible, gentle. I feel heard about my concerns. He checks in with me often while working on me. Behind the English, he and his assistant communicate in Spanish. I would loved to know what the discussions are about, but I realize that efficiency is important, and their native language affords them that. Another dentist, perhaps the head dentist and clinic owner, comes by to check on progress and quality, and offers more explanations to me in English. With a hand mirror reflecting my teeth, I am offered an overview of what is happening, and why. Everything is recorded by a camera on the wall. Clinic protection, my friend and I think later on when comparing experiences. Absolutely makes sense. Liability, especially with Americans who sue at the drop of a penny.
3.
Cost, you ask?
Well, here is the breakdown: US dollars—all cash. Credit card payments could be used, but a 4% fee would be tacked on. I"ve made a few trips to the ATM in Yuma. I use a Schwab debit card for a checking account linked to an investment account that I never put any money into. Schwab reimburses all ATM fees at the end of the month. (This I learned about before my first year long trip in 2014. Saved me lots!)
Rundown:
Phase one:
*Consultations and x-rays: free
*Cleaning: $30
*Phase 1: two extractions, two bone grafts, temporary bridge, two crowns: $1700
Phase Two in March to finish up the permanent bridge: $1400
But, what the hell, it was the old fillings wreaking havoc in my mouth to start with….what about the others? Yes, he can re-do those those with modern material. And one is too big, needs a crown. And then there is that old bridge on my lower right, not really done all that well to start with….maybe I should upgrade that too! One more cleaning for $30 before I leave for good in March?
*Added work in March:
- Re-do other old fillings: $80
- One crown for tooth with large filling : $350
- New bridge to replace the older one: $1050 (three crowns worth)
- One more cleaning for good measure: $30
Really?
Phase 1 and Phase 2 in March: $3130
Added if I decide to upgrade the old stuff: $1430 with cleaning.
Are my friend and I happy? Oh yeah.
As my pal said: “This is the best dental experience I ever had.” Then she added: “These younger Mexican dentists seem really skilled. And WHOA!, darn handsome. It was worth $480 to stare up into those amazing dark eyes and cute face for a few hours. Couldn’t be happier.”
4.
The border wall. American tax dollars. I would rather have had our legislators work on better immigration policies and procedures for asylum. This wall seems like a band-aid and doesn’t really fix anything at all. My tax dollars….feels to me, wasted.
But, here it is…a section of tall steel posts stopping stealth border crossings of those without permission.
We walk a whole block to get in back of the long line of aging Americans and Canadians waiting to return to their cars in the paid lot. Sellers offer fudge, cigars, aprons, hats, wooden carved birds, bracelets.
We wait, move a few steps and wait again. I take pictures of the wall on the Mexico side. (There are no signs here prohibiting taking photos from here…signs just at the actual customs crossing. )
Once at the wall, the US border officers puff their chests, ask for passport viewings, condescend. Like cattle being funneled, we are let into the next line up— 30 people at a time. Two customs officers inside, two lines.
Once inside, with passport in hand, and a camera scanning our faces, the officer asks, “What do you have?”
My pal had worn a pullover lightweight jacket with a front pouch. After we both were past the exit point, she told me she didn’t know what to say. She started taking out her sunglasses, wallet, coins, face mask, and ….
“No….what do you have?” The officer had asked again. “Prescriptions?”
Ah….drugs…..of course! On my third day, upon leaving the dental clinic with Dr Giovanny’s script in hand, Manuel moves fast and herds me across the street to a pharmacy, most likely owned by a relative. It did not matter to me. I order up the antibiotic and the painkiller: $16.32 US total. Wow!
“What do you have?” Asks the border officer on day three, and I am prepared.
“Two prescriptions for some dental work, “ I respond. I put the small bag up on the counter, with script and receipt. It took a few days, but the routine is down now. When I return in March, I’ll drive to the lot, pay the $6 fee, and stroll through the "Wall" and around the corner to Castle Dental and my next visit with Dr Givoanny…..my Mexico dentist...and super-hero!
Well, time to take another round of drugs….need those bone grafts to heal well over the next three months. And darn it, no use of straws and no spitting!
The border wall. American tax dollars. I would rather have had our legislators work on better immigration policies and procedures for asylum. This wall seems like a band-aid and doesn’t really fix anything at all. My tax dollars….feels to me, wasted.
But, here it is…a section of tall steel posts stopping stealth border crossings of those without permission.
We walk a whole block to get in back of the long line of aging Americans and Canadians waiting to return to their cars in the paid lot. Sellers offer fudge, cigars, aprons, hats, wooden carved birds, bracelets.
We wait, move a few steps and wait again. I take pictures of the wall on the Mexico side. (There are no signs here prohibiting taking photos from here…signs just at the actual customs crossing. )
Once at the wall, the US border officers puff their chests, ask for passport viewings, condescend. Like cattle being funneled, we are let into the next line up— 30 people at a time. Two customs officers inside, two lines.
Once inside, with passport in hand, and a camera scanning our faces, the officer asks, “What do you have?”
My pal had worn a pullover lightweight jacket with a front pouch. After we both were past the exit point, she told me she didn’t know what to say. She started taking out her sunglasses, wallet, coins, face mask, and ….
“No….what do you have?” The officer had asked again. “Prescriptions?”
Ah….drugs…..of course! On my third day, upon leaving the dental clinic with Dr Giovanny’s script in hand, Manuel moves fast and herds me across the street to a pharmacy, most likely owned by a relative. It did not matter to me. I order up the antibiotic and the painkiller: $16.32 US total. Wow!
“What do you have?” Asks the border officer on day three, and I am prepared.
“Two prescriptions for some dental work, “ I respond. I put the small bag up on the counter, with script and receipt. It took a few days, but the routine is down now. When I return in March, I’ll drive to the lot, pay the $6 fee, and stroll through the "Wall" and around the corner to Castle Dental and my next visit with Dr Givoanny…..my Mexico dentist...and super-hero!
Well, time to take another round of drugs….need those bone grafts to heal well over the next three months. And darn it, no use of straws and no spitting!