Last year I found out that I needed to see a Periodontist, who specializes in gums, to deal with the fact that I had exposed root on one of my bottom teeth. After my dentist referred me to a Periodontist in Danville, we called and made an appointment. Without my knowledge of the surgery I would later have, I was eager to get the appointment over with, so we arrived early.

As we arrived, we were in disbelief that this was the correct address. My mother and I even drove around the block a few times and called my normal dentist to make sure we were at the right place. The office was inside of an old, rather shabby looking house. It did not resemble a shed or anything ridiculous. A large, middle class family home would describe it better, which is of no issue usually. The only reason for our concern was that if indeed this was the place then they would be opening up my gums and everything in a health facility with peeling paint and cracked pillars. Still, we went inside because for all we know, they could be just getting started or maybe they just spent all their money on nice equipment. This, of course, was not the case.
As we passed through the doorway, an overwhelming odor slammed into our faces. My first thought was to turn around and leave, but my mother insisted we stay saying only that they could be having plumbing problems which are out of their control. So, against my gut feeling, we walked up to the receptionist only to find that things were just about to get worse.
Because I was a new patient, we had to fill out a lot of paperwork which the receptionist refused to give us a pen for. After the third time of asking, she finally found one, slammed her desk drawer shut, and threw it up on the counter at us. Besides the fact that she was unnecessarily rude, she also had the 80’s hairband look going on, minus the leather pants and bandana. After being harassed, we sat down on the ancient turquoise chairs housed in the waiting room, and I began to look around. The walls were covered in flowery wallpaper, cobwebs, and a film that looked to be from smoking, something that isn’t allowed in health facilities. The receptionist’s counter had wallpaper plastered in teal and purple shapes all over it. Wallpaper that was peeling off at the edges and stained. One more thing about the receptionist was that she kept taping her filthy claws on the counter and calling her “baby” because “he aint got notin’ ta do.” Mind you, we were not in a bad neighborhood and even with bad things piling up against this place, we stayed because in all fairness the receptionist wasn’t performing my mouth surgery and maybe the doctor wasn’t all that horrible.
There were quite a few characters sitting in the waiting room with us. First, let’s start with the old lady sitting a few seats to the left of me. She was a completely normal, grandmother looking old lady with glasses, a flower printed jacket, a tiny purse, a scarf, and a cane. She didn’t say a word the whole time we were there. There was a line to the bathroom and because she had trouble walking, she just sat and waited. Since the chairs were loud, her getting up caught my attention. I watched her slowly grab ahold of her cane and stand up and then, without hesitation, she full out ran to the bathroom. The entire time she had been shaking and moving really slowly like most elderly do then out of nowhere she sprinted to the restroom. I just love going to the doctor and seeing somebody’s grandmother race across the waiting room as if she is on “speed.”
The next character I would like to point out to you is a man in his mid-twenties wearing a white tank top, flip flops, and shorts in 50 degree weather. This man also was shaking very badly and was repeatedly rubbing his eyes which were hidden behind a pair of gas station sunglasses. He kept getting up to go to the restroom and pacing around the room. The little time he was sitting down he was picking at his face and shaking his leg so bad that it would cause the chair to create this awful screeching sound.

When I finally did get called back to the room, after almost two hours of waiting, our fears were proven. There were three chairs all in the same room together. The chairs were ripped, slimy, and missing their plastic cover. The tools sitting on the platter next to the chair were out of their packages, stained, and dusty, not to mention that the light above me was cracked on one side and covered by aluminum foil on the other.
Needless to say, we got up and left. After wasting two hours in a waiting room that involved sitting next to the neighborhood drug addicts and listening to what sounded like pudding being sucked out of someone’s mouth, then finding out that this place was as scary as it looked on the outside, we were a little less than enthused. We informed my dentist of that place’s “condition” and found somewhere else that was less infected and nasty. They successfully performed my surgery, and we never had to see or smell that other place ever again.