On Dentists and Frivolity.

My NHS dentist’s surgery has deteriorated since the pandemic. It’s become more overtly commercial. The penetrating rust of profit obsession is dripping remorselessly and leaving dirty marks on what used to be a fine institution (an opinion I related to Ms Medeea on entering her lair, quickly followed by ‘Thank God you’re still here.’)

There’s now a 7ft tall banner in the waiting room advertising ‘AESTHETICS’ which comprises lists of products and processes which appear to bear little relation to regulation English (by which I mean that I had no clue as to what any of them meant.) The only one that stood out – being couched in perfectly intelligible English – was Hopi ear candles. (Whether that’s a process or a procedure I couldn’t say.)

‘What the hell’s a Hopi ear candle,’ I asked Ms Medeea, ‘and what’s it doing in a dental surgery?’ She didn’t know, but thought it might have something to do with ear wax. Ah, so that’s what they mean by ‘AESTHETICS.’ It’s relevance to oral health, however, remains a mystery.

So there I was, lying supine and helpless with two women hanging over me like vengeful harpies with instruments, when I noticed how lovely the nurse’s eyes were. During a lull in proceedings I turned to Ms M and said ‘don’t tell her I said this, but your nurse has the loveliest eyes.’ Titters ensued and I was moved to protest that I may be permitted to say such things at my age. The nurse was also brilliant with the sucky tube – I didn’t have to swallow and interrupt proceedings once – and was also taking an extraordinary level of interest in the interior of my mouth. At one point her head was so low that I thought she might be checking my heartbeat (and maybe she was; maybe she was really an undercover agent for the cardiology department at the hospital, irritated as they are by my refusal to take beta blockers. I think I’m being fanciful now.)

When it was all over, I stared long and hard at the nurse’s eyes and asked: ‘Do you have any middle eastern element in your ancestry?’

‘One of my granddads is a Greek Cypriot.’

‘Ah, close enough. That must be it then.’

‘That’s impressive.’

‘I know. Am I a genius or just very clever?’

‘Clever.’

And so a good time was had by all, and I followed Ms M’s instructions to the letter by not having any food or hot drinks for two hours (…and said what a good boy am I.)

I went to reception and booked my six monthly check-up. ‘Do you have any preference for which dentist you see?’ asked the new young receptionist who doesn’t know me yet. ‘Bloody right I do. Ms Medeea is little short of a goddess and I decline to take any less.’ And so she is, and so I don’t, and so I now have something to look forward to: spending a little time in the company of one of the very few people with whom I feel entirely comfortable and relaxed. How rare is that?