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Owwwwwwwwwwww. That is it. For days the left side of my tongue was being shredded over the jagged edge of a crown in the back of my mouth. At the risk of a permanent speech impediment and with gnawing knowledge that our dental insurance’s deductible was exhausted for the year, I could take it no more. I had to get to a dentist.

Searching for a nearby dental clinic, a task in the greater Phoenix metropolitan area, which keep in mind, probably has more geriatric and cardiac facilities per square mile than any city in the nation, not to mention a Walgreens on almost every block, is not that difficult, I was on my way to the Gateway Smiles Dental Group.

Leaving blank the question asking to list available insurance on the in-patient questionnaire, I decided to keep my lack of available insurance to myself until a formal assessment was made. For the cost of an office call and an x-ray, I was informed that yes, the crown had cracked, and no, it could not be filled but had to be replaced. “How much would that cost?” was answered with a question from the dentist, “Do you have any dental insurance?” “Well, no, not right now,” was met with, “I would estimate about $600 for a total replacement.”

When I admitted that I did have insurance but my deductible would not kick in for another month, I was offered a “deal”. We could do the work now for $900 and post date the bill for when the insurance clicks in.

Why the same exact dental work should cost $300 more with insurance than without was met with, “Because that is the way the system works.” Dr. Gateway Smiles smiled as he answered. I dared not delve into the legality of post dating a dental bill. Instead, for a mere $85 I had the “tongue tearer” filed down to ease the pain and left. My tongue did heal but the tooth did not.

We moved to a new RV park south of Tucson, at Tuba- Tumacacori, a mere 30 miles from the Mexico-USA border the next week and the rest of the crown came loose. Tuba is a delightful artist community and Tumacacori site of an history church and mission. There was much to see and do and I was in pain. Adding to the misery, another crown popped off during a nightly flossing. This was getting serious.

I shared my dental despair with a fellow RVer in the park and he had inspiring news. He and his wife had driven for days to get close enough to Mexico to have extensive dental work done just across the border. “You can’t beat them Mexican dentists and everything is like half price.” Hey, based on the longevity of the work of my “Gringo” dentist, the thought of crossing the border, and having work done at half price, became very appealing. He gave me the name of his dentist, Dr Fernado Islas Cantua, and suggested that I tell him “Shorty sent ya.”I couldn’t help but wonder if Shorty was getting a kickback on every referral.

As my tongue began to suffer from reoccurring wounds and my second crown lay in its plastic sandwich bag, my mind began to add up the costs. $900 for the first crown and now a second one was on the shelf. I made the decision. I was headed south of the Border.

Now traveling into Mexico is not like a trip across town. First, the Tubac-Tumacacori area is smack dab in the middle of the Green Valley corridor, gateway for many undocumented immigrants or “illegals” in their quest for a better life. And to stop them there is a white and green army called The Border Patrol. Part of the new CBP agency (US Customs and Border Protection) the white and green striped vehicles are everywhere and in every form. You will see Jeeps, Suburbans, helicopters, airplanes and pickups fitted with dog-catcher like cages, not for dogs but for illegals. We even saw horse back patrols winding through the desert washes and an eerie, slow moving observation drone flying overhead. The unwritten motto of the Border Patrol “Protecting the Border with no Boundaries” is not appreciated by many local residents who feel that the illegal problems should be solved at the border not in their own back yard. With all this activity, a visitor might feel unsafe, but we never did. To the contrary, the presence of the Border Patrol gave a sense of security from a largely unseen enemy, most of whom are non violent and just looking for a better life. The attitude of the permanent residents of the Green Valley toward the illegals is hard to determine. While open resentment is sometimes expressed as in the rules for the RV Park we stayed at where rule #11 states: For safety, do not feed stray dogs, cats, wild animals or ILLEGAL HUMANS. (my emphasis, not theirs) It begs the question, Is it OK to feed legal humans? Most locals temper their criticism in lieu of cheap lawn care, pool maintenance and house cleaning. Actually most of the local antagonism seems to be directed toward the Border Patrol for the inconvenience of having to stop to prove citizenship rather than toward the illegals themselves. Signs say “Protect the Border at the Border.”

As I approached the US border town of Nagoles, directions to the dentist and passport in hand, I was flagged down by a parking attendant. It soon becomes apparent to the first time visitor that you don’t drive into a Mexican border town, you walk in. Oh, it is easy enough to drive in; it is getting back out that is the problem.

For $4 you park in a guarded lot, razor wire on the fence gleaming in the morning sun. A short walk takes you to the actual border where cars whiz INTO Mexico rarely impeded, while vehicles coming out sit quietly in a very long line. One cannot help but muse that there are more people wanting in to the USA than out. For so many, we ARE the Promised Land. A tiny sign points the way: TO MEXICO.

You actually step across that line, imaginary or not, through a huge tubular reinforced steel revolving gate that looks like something used to slice giant hard boiled eggs, only you are the egg. I tried gently pushing it backwards just to see if it was a one way turning gate. It was.

As I proceeded into the unknown, to the left were hundreds, yes hundreds of day workers standing in a winding line in the opposite direction. It was the carless equivalent of the morning rush hour in most American cities.

Within a few footsteps you are overwhelmed by the sights, sounds, smells and advertised tastes of this environ. “Taxi, Senor, Taxi!!!” Viagra, Celebrex, Amphicillin, All Half Price. Silver Jewelry, Leather Goods, Authentic Mexican Pottery for Sale. Big brown eyed children with shiny black hair approach shyly, “Chixlets for Sale” using an almost inaudible sales pitch as a watchful mother hovers nearby. Hawkers approach with gold chains swinging from their arms. Decorated donkeys in straw hats and paper flowers braided in their manes patiently wait for riders. “Take your picture with my donkey, Sir”. Some street salesmen with no apparent wares approach, “What you want?” as if they could provide any possible item or service your imagination could conjure up.

The smells of Mexican Nagoles or Sonora are a strange combination of diesel fumes, donkey droppings, street sizzling fajitas, pungent salsa, moles, chipoti, all floating on a distant radio sound of traditional Mexican music. Don, I don’t think you are in Kansas any more.

But I was there to find a dentist. One small problem developed. Map reading is apparently not a skill central to most Sonorans, and with our faithful GPS unit back at the car, I was lost. Of course, my lack of Spanish beyond Si was the real problem.

Then, as if sent by our Lady of Guadeloupe herself, a handsome Hispanic man in a dental smock appeared from nowhere and announced, “You have tooth problem, I can fix.” I asked him how much it would cost to have a cap glued back on, and he explained that it would be $50 American. I suggested that was pretty steep just to glue on a crown. Hey, barter is a way of life down here although I was sure it would be twice that in the States. He assured me that he used very expensive adhesive and that it would last for 40 years. Quick calculations suggested that I would be 102 before it fell off and suddenly it sounded like a good deal. I agreed on the price and was ushered into a back room with a dentist chair and large pieces of drywall stacked against one wall. The dentist was obviously in an expansion or demolition stage and based on the size of the room, I am almost sure it was the former. “You swallow your own spit”, I was informed, but you can’t have everything and lack of suction seemed a minor inconvenience. How hard is it to swallow your own spit? With the crown reattached, I left, proud of all the money I had saved. We would worry about the other crown another day.

Leaving Mexico is a bit more complicated. You definitely can count on a wait, but the custom agents were polite. I was asked what I wanted to declare and I felt like saying “Well, I am glad to get back into the good old USA”, but I could tell from the expression on the agent’s face a feeble attempt at humor would not be appreciated. I figured a crown that I brought in did not qualify nor the Chixlet gum I had acquired at a ridiculous price, so I blurted out “Nothing.”

Back at the RV park I was basking in the glow of my newly acquired chewing surface, but knewing I still had a second crown that had to be fixed. Four days later the crown that was to last til I was 102 popped off again, this time in the middle of dinner and disappeared with my last swallow of food. Faced with the gruesomely obscene thought of the only obvious process of crown recovery, a procedure I had participated in during my younger, less financially secure years, I’d decided I better find this Dr Fernado Islas Cantua or a Mexican dentist who spoke English.

Searching the Internet, I found the office of Dr. Francisco Vazques M. M.S.D. where English was spoken, Visa was taken and you could make an appointment. I called and explained that two crowns probably needed replacement and asked an estimate over the phone. It would be $400 per crown. I made the appointment knowing it would mean at least four more trips through the “egg slicer” gate, but I was promised phone directions and a savings of at least $800 over a US dental clinic.

This time I was able to find the correct street but walked by the front door several times before seeing the sign overhead. Walking down a long dark corridor, I spied a large white tooth decal on a door and the name Vazques in bold letters. I had arrived.

The receptionist was polite and spoke English as promised and I was asked to take a seat. Half way through the in patient form, I was informed that there was no record of an appointment and was I sure I had the right Vazques. Well, how many Vazques could there be? I soon found out that that is like asking how many Smiths there are in Chicago? I had the wrong Vazques but the correct building. One floor up in Suite #10 was my guy.

Well, not a guy but Dr. Maria Jesus Barrera and Dr. Mavra Lauguna. Did I really need a two dentist female tag team, one of whom had a middle name of Jesus? Did they know something I didn’t? Not wanting to appear sexist, a trait not unknown in Mexican males, I gave up on the idea of Dr. Vazques whose picture on the clinic web page definitely indicated male.

I was ushered into clean professional looking patient room with all the trappings of a US counterpart. There was the chair, X ray machine, overhead light, drills, soft music and suction. Hey, this was not a “swallow your own spit” type of place, and compared to the last facility this one seemed like a suite at the Ritz.

It became apparent that Dr. Barrera, who looked just old enough to be my younger daughter, was going to do most of the work and Dr. Laugana, who looked almost young enough to be Dr. Barrera younger sister, was going to assist. Dr. Laugana spoke English and acted as translator, a feature that I would come to been eternally grateful for over the next 7, yes, 7 visits.

An X ray showed that not only did I need two crown replacements but I had a third tooth with an infection underneath and a necessary root canal and another crown. You have to be kidding. This was turning out to be a dental melt down!! Where could I get a root canal? No problem, the other Dr. Vazques, the one on first floor does great root canals. And I didn’t need directions. I had been there? How much? Well, that would be $400? What choice did I have? $400 per crown, $400 per canal, (It was like the pricing guy was stuck on $400.) equals a grand total of $1600 for three crowns and a root canal. In the USA cost would be a minimum of $3800.

The final decision maker was a call from my now active dental insurance which would cover half of the $1600. The claims counselor informed me that many of their subscribers get their work done in Mexico and they had no problem honoring the claims. Let’s see if we can figure out why? They pay for half of $1600 instead of $3800 or more.

During my many trips south of the border I developed a wonderful dentist-patient relationship with Drs. Barrera, Laguana and the other Dr. Vazques. Through all the numbing shots, drilling, nerve reaming, cast taking and crown fitting, the tag team of Barrera-Laguana chattered in rapid fire Spanish interrupted predictably with sudden bursts of politely quiet laughter and snickering. At one point, Dr Laguana, the translator, asked me in English if I wondered what they were talking about. I ventured a guess. “Well, it probably is about either husbands or boyfriends.” How did I know. I explained that I had been a high school teacher for over 34 years. A quick translation revealed I was correct and then more laughter.

My final visit was, I must admit, a bit nostalgic. I printed out a picture of a large alligator with its teeth bared and the phase ABIERTO AMPLIO “open wide” in Spanish (thanks to my online translator) for each of the doctors. At the bottom of the picture was, again in Spanish, Para Mi Dentista Favorito En Todo México (For My Favorite Dentist in All of Mexico). I did not have the heart to explain that they were the ONLY dentists I knew in all of Mexico, but they probably would not have minded. We exchanged e mail addresses and promised to stay in touch.

Three Crowns and a Root Canal Betwixt Tubac and Tumacacori could not have turned out better with new friends and a new mouth.

An After Thought-Would I do it all over again? Yes, a resounding yes. There are risks in all of life’s adventures but I found the people on the streets of Nagoles, polite, courtesy and just trying to make it like all the rest of us. And as far as the dental care, at least and the offices of Vazquez and Vazquez, it was professional, hygienic and first class. Root canals are not fun but mine was practically painless and my new crowns sparkle my mouth. Special attention was paid to placement so that I can floss easily and the cost was worth all the trips across the border.

And I am got to meet two first rate dentists, Dr. Barrera and Dr. Laguna. As hard as it is to believe Dr. Barrera is 30 with two children and Dr. Laguna 24 and engaged to be married.