It's 2:30 in the morning. Way too early to be up and nowhere near time for my alarm. But I’m wide awake. Not because of business ideas or some exciting new projects. No. I’m up because of that kind of pain. You know the one — dull, throbbing, drilling its way from your jaw up into your temple. The kind of pain that turns you into a grumpy old c… (“man” I meant to say), even if you're decades away from actually being one.
So there I am, going through the box of medicine, trying to work out which painkiller is the least likely to kill me. And all that while weighing up my options like a rational adult.
Yes, I have IPMI in place. Of course I do. But let’s be honest: when it comes to dental, most of these policies are about as useful as a chocolate teapot. The vast majority gives you £300 per year for dental and if you've ever visited a dentist in the UK, you’ll know exactly what that covers – f..k all nothing (perhaps one consultation and a quick scale and polish if you smile nicely. That’s it.)
So, by morning, I’m sat in the Bupa Dental reception in our local village. Consultation? £100.
(And to be fair, before even attending them I was almost 100% sure that it was a root canal situation). Ten minutes in the chair, one quick scan, and the dentist looks at me and says: "You need a re-root canal." Brilliant. Let’s get on with it, then?
Ah, no. Of course not. He can only extract the tooth, but apparently to fix it – this job is for a a qualified specialist to do. And the next available appointment? Nearly End of July. Cost? £1,590. Lovely.
Back in the office. Coffee. Painkillers. Laptop. I start calling around, desperately trying to find someone who can see me sooner. Eventually, I find a doctor, but A) they’re 60 miles away, and B) it will cost me £2,200. At that point, I thought — NOT A CHANCE.
Time to ring to Estonia.
Ten minutes later, I’m speaking to dental clinic (the one I’ve used quite a few times). As always, they deliver: “Yes Kirill, come over. We will reshuffle the schedule knowing that you live abroad, and we can start as early as next Monday and we will try our best to finish everything in one week.”
Return flight: £202.78. Full root canal treatment (anaesthesia, scan, microscope — the whole thing - £600. All done by people who know what they’re doing. Total? Just over £800. Compared to £1,590 here. And more importantly — done way quicker and properly.
I don’t want to sound rude here, but …
Here in the UK, dentists are still use amalgam fillings as standard (you know, the “silver” ones. This is something that’s been banned in most countries for over 20 years). Dentists treat root canals like rocket science and most local private clinics feel like they’re running out of a 2001 NHS manual, but with a pricing structure of a luxury hotel. I never understood why.
So now, let me jump ahead and answer the inevitable question from the “why bother with insurance then?” brigade:
No, I’m not cancelling my policy.
And no, I won’t be flying to the Baltics every time I sneeze.
Because IPMI — and even good quality PMI — isn’t about teeth. It’s about cancer treatment. Surgeries. Specialist care. MRI’s, CT’s, and PET scans. The stuff that cost tens of thousands of pounds. The stuff that matters when the sh*t really hits the fan.
But let’s not kid ourselves:
Dental care in the UK is a joke (at least from my point of view). Yes, brilliant dentists exist, but they have waiting lists until September and cost like a bridge. Meanwhile, my tooth is screaming today!!!!
Look, I get it.
Not everyone has my kind of flexibility. You might not be able to hop on a plane at a moment’s notice. But here’s the point:
If you have even a bit of initiative, a couple of contacts, and the ability to think outside the postcode, then you can get things sorted. Sometimes with insurance. Sometimes without.
But always with the right mindset.
And of course — I’m still around if you need help navigating your own policy, or figuring out what’s covered and what’s just window dressing.
Stay safe. Stay smiling. And if you’re need to do a root canal. Then drop me a line and I will tell you were to go
So there I am, going through the box of medicine, trying to work out which painkiller is the least likely to kill me. And all that while weighing up my options like a rational adult.
Yes, I have IPMI in place. Of course I do. But let’s be honest: when it comes to dental, most of these policies are about as useful as a chocolate teapot. The vast majority gives you £300 per year for dental and if you've ever visited a dentist in the UK, you’ll know exactly what that covers – f..k all nothing (perhaps one consultation and a quick scale and polish if you smile nicely. That’s it.)
So, by morning, I’m sat in the Bupa Dental reception in our local village. Consultation? £100.
(And to be fair, before even attending them I was almost 100% sure that it was a root canal situation). Ten minutes in the chair, one quick scan, and the dentist looks at me and says: "You need a re-root canal." Brilliant. Let’s get on with it, then?
Ah, no. Of course not. He can only extract the tooth, but apparently to fix it – this job is for a a qualified specialist to do. And the next available appointment? Nearly End of July. Cost? £1,590. Lovely.
Back in the office. Coffee. Painkillers. Laptop. I start calling around, desperately trying to find someone who can see me sooner. Eventually, I find a doctor, but A) they’re 60 miles away, and B) it will cost me £2,200. At that point, I thought — NOT A CHANCE.
Time to ring to Estonia.
Ten minutes later, I’m speaking to dental clinic (the one I’ve used quite a few times). As always, they deliver: “Yes Kirill, come over. We will reshuffle the schedule knowing that you live abroad, and we can start as early as next Monday and we will try our best to finish everything in one week.”
Return flight: £202.78. Full root canal treatment (anaesthesia, scan, microscope — the whole thing - £600. All done by people who know what they’re doing. Total? Just over £800. Compared to £1,590 here. And more importantly — done way quicker and properly.
I don’t want to sound rude here, but …
Here in the UK, dentists are still use amalgam fillings as standard (you know, the “silver” ones. This is something that’s been banned in most countries for over 20 years). Dentists treat root canals like rocket science and most local private clinics feel like they’re running out of a 2001 NHS manual, but with a pricing structure of a luxury hotel. I never understood why.
So now, let me jump ahead and answer the inevitable question from the “why bother with insurance then?” brigade:
No, I’m not cancelling my policy.
And no, I won’t be flying to the Baltics every time I sneeze.
Because IPMI — and even good quality PMI — isn’t about teeth. It’s about cancer treatment. Surgeries. Specialist care. MRI’s, CT’s, and PET scans. The stuff that cost tens of thousands of pounds. The stuff that matters when the sh*t really hits the fan.
But let’s not kid ourselves:
Dental care in the UK is a joke (at least from my point of view). Yes, brilliant dentists exist, but they have waiting lists until September and cost like a bridge. Meanwhile, my tooth is screaming today!!!!
Look, I get it.
Not everyone has my kind of flexibility. You might not be able to hop on a plane at a moment’s notice. But here’s the point:
If you have even a bit of initiative, a couple of contacts, and the ability to think outside the postcode, then you can get things sorted. Sometimes with insurance. Sometimes without.
But always with the right mindset.
And of course — I’m still around if you need help navigating your own policy, or figuring out what’s covered and what’s just window dressing.
Stay safe. Stay smiling. And if you’re need to do a root canal. Then drop me a line and I will tell you were to go