An apple a day may drive the doctor away, but when you are stuck with a bad tooth, nothing appeases the pain better than the idea of compassion. But there's a reason why dental visits are to be avoided like a drill on plaque: Because dentists and compassion don't go together.
George Psaltis, DMD, defies this stereotype. It is not his excellent qualifications that raise the bar on the dental experience, but rather one understated trait: his zodiac. Pisces people are known for their warmth and understanding. True to his Piscean nature, George Psaltis listens, commiserates, and makes you laugh until you forget your troubles--and once you have, he slowly and painlessly eases them away, with the aid of his dental expertise and easy handling of terrifying dental paraphernalia.
Because words cannot describe the excellence of George Psaltis, I will attempt here to represent my own experience in pictures:
PAIN: The only real motivation to ever visit a dentist in the first place. I couldn't take my beautiful eyes looking like the Internet symbol anymore, and so I got the guts and made the dreaded call.
DOUBT: The pain decreased as I ran late to my appointment, and for a second, I considered running back in the opposite direction. But, it was a personal test, and my prideful determination to succeed wouldn't let me give up. That, and I had just bought these luscious Jacques Torres cookies that I really craved, so a functional set of teeth was a necessity.
FEAR: I took a deep breath, and upon walking in and remembering the whiteness of the dental office walls that I had last visited years before, I gulped, and wondered if maybe the cookies were cold now and throwing them away wouldn't be such a big loss really.
MEMORIES: But before I could make my escape, the dental assistant smiled sweetly at me and handed me a form to fill out. My knees buckled, and I fell on the seat and blindly filled out my information as I remembered my previous dental experiences--something resembling a bullet shot straight in the face.
RELIEF: Not just in seeing the smiling dentist's empathetic face but also in realizing that he held no gun or powerful drill as he extended his hand in greeting. Thanks to his kind demeanor and gentle use of tools and teeth--as well as the oh-so-fine invention of anesthetics--my third molar extraction was painlessly over within minutes.
And thanks to George Psaltis himself, the cookies tasted just as good as the apple I bite into now as I sit here recollecting my experience. My only regret is that I didn't keep the tooth to throw over a roof later for good luck. But with a superb dentist like this, I need no luck--not when it comes to this fine pair or choppers, at least.