Letter From America: A Montana Singularity
Ronnie Bray tells of having fun in a trailer home dentist's surgery - if fun is the right word.
Professor Hugh Nibley said, "A singularity is a thing that does
exist but should not exist."
Here in Montana we run across singularities all the time. They are
part of the normal pattern of life, and while none of the locals
bats an eyelid at them, to the transplanted they stand out like
pikestaffs on your face. For example, in Troy there is but one
dentist who practices from a surgery situated in a singlewide
trailer home.
A friend of ours had a gruelling toothache but no money. She asked
the good dentist's receptionist if he took payments in stages, but
she told her that their policy was strictly cash on extraction. So,
the poor girl had to suffer and live on high doses of painkillers
that didn't work until she found a dentist in a nearby town who took
pity on her and did the job on the never-never.
Time rolled around, as time is wont to do, and Gay got a dental
abscess the size of Everest. Our good physician, John Wilcox, took
one look, called the good dentist, and got an immediate appointment.
To save you from nightmares, I will discreetly draw a curtain over
the next hour. If you want gore, go to your own dentist with an
excrescence lying beneath a molar with ten-inch roots!
It came to pass that a much relieved Gay tottered out of the
dentist's chair and took up a position in an arm chair in front of
the mandatory fish tank while I stood at reception and tried to pay
a bill of unknown proportions. My best efforts were futile. The
receptionist apologised for not taking my money but explained that
the girl who does the accounts isn't here just now. "We'll send you
a bill," she cooed in that broad-smiled American way that is
convincingly sincere.
We waited for the bill, but it took six months to arrive. They had
added $2.00 for late payment, which we thought was cheap at the
price. For a practice that didn't offer payment on terms, we thought
it was peculiar, but put it down to a glitch.
Almost a year later, Gay broke a tooth and went back to the practice
for another round with the dentist who works in shorts and could
hold his own as the comedian at Sunday Night at the Palladium. At
the conclusion of treatment, I went to the desk. This time the girl
who did the accounts was there, but she simply smiled and said, "Oh,
don't worry, we'll send you a bill."
Four months later the bill arrived with a supplement of $2.00 for
late payment that we paid cheerfully, musing that it must be a
standard practice of the practice. We figured that if they did offer
treatment on terms, they would be paid long before they sent their
bills out, although they would miss their late payment fees of $2.00
a time. Perhaps they really enjoyed the late fees. Who knows?
And the juxtaposition of not offering payment over time, but not
sending out bills for several months presents us with something that
should not happen, but does, and that's a singularity!
Copyright © Ronnie Bray 2004
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Artistes ~ Writers ~ Watchers of Wild Kingdom ~
http://www.2theheart.com/author_ronnie_bray
http://www.meridianmagazine.com/voices Weekly
Column at: www.openwriting.com
