My Date with the Dentist…

 

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image by Pixabay

 

 

The day I had been long waiting and dreading in equal measure had finally arrived… and I had the flu…

Suspecting some kind of conspiracy, I knew I had to keep this appointment, even if it meant I crawled there on my hands and knees. I had been patient, endured endless days of torment, wondering if the outcome would ever be worth the wait.

Today I would find out.

I felt like death warmed over, my throat raw and my body wracked with pain. I couldn’t stop coughing, my head was splitting and befuddled with copious amounts of paracetamol. My voice had been reduced to a croak and I had trouble walking a straight line in my weakened condition. I was in no fit state to keep this appointment and I knew it. Fate had decided to throw one last spoke in my wheel and yet I knew that if I gave up now, I would never have the strength to fight it again.

As the time of my appointment drew near, I argued all the pros and cons.

  1. My Dentist would probably take one look at me and send me home. That’s if I could even get there in the first place. I could give up now and go back to bed.
  2. If anything was wrong, I wouldn’t be able to voice my opinion with anything approaching conviction. It might be better to go back to bed.
  3. There was always the possibility that this appointment would be a waste of time, the teeth would be a disaster or not be ready. None of the previous fittings had ended well, so my fears had foundation. My bed was looking better with every passing minute.
  4. Maybe the Dentist would fail to turn up. He could have the flu too or have flown the country to avoid my arrival. Maybe a sinkhole had opened up in the high street, consuming the building I headed for? I should really go back to bed…

 

I was clutching at straws by this time, trying to justify the state of me with what might happen if I managed to stagger down the road. But I knew myself far too well. I would stagger down the road and defy him to send me home… my new teeth would fit… and the fresh air would do me good. I could pull this off, hell, I had done worse in my time and none the worse for it.

If it all goes pear-shaped, at least I can lie on my deathbed and smile at the world with a brand new set of pearly white teeth!

 

Later that day…

I walked slowly into town, and with every step, convinced I was mad and about to reap the results of my insanity. Not only was the building where I had last seen it, the dentist had turned up too. Two out of three is not bad, so I waited for the sword of Damocles to claim the last one. This was not to be, for the new teeth had turned up too.

To cut a long story short, and after much pushing, prodding and various bits were smoothed off, I walked home, still feeling like crap, but grinning at everyone I met with a set of teeth that didn’t feel like my own.

It will take a while, he says, before they feel normal again, due mainly to the length of time I have been without them. I could have said so much at that point, but I really didn’t have the energy…

 

5 thoughts on “My Date with the Dentist…

  1. I’m surprised they even let you in the door. Dare I offer congratulations? 🙂 … may you be feeling better soon, the Dreaded Lurgy is not to be sneezed at.

    …after re-reading … that’s the second unintentional pun I’ve written in a comment today. I’m on a roll! 😀

    Liked by 1 person

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