Problem number 1: The first thing that happens when I go to my dentist is that the receptionist gives me a form to fill in. It’s all to do with having a record of health issues, medications, allergies, and so on. And until now it’s always been a paper form. Today I was given a tablet (the computer variety, as you’ve probably guessed.)
I’ve never used a tablet in my life because my entire computer experience has been limited to a desktop with a mouse. I’ve only ever seen tablets at short distances across the aisles of railway carriages or on adjoining tables in coffee shops. (‘Oh look: must be one of those tablet things. I wonder how you make things move without a mouse and a pointer.’ You get the picture.) Furthermore, the dear old tablet was mildly deficient in its functionality. (Modern times, modern technology, you know?)
The upshot of all this was that I had to make several visits to reception in order to find out which bit I should poke or stroke next to move the exercise forward or to circumvent the device’s latest minor malfunction. (Having said which I have to admit that this was not as onerous a task as you might imagine, since the receptionist is new and bears an uncanny resemblance to the Lady B. I did, therefore, receive brief bursts of weak sunshine coming back over the desk, especially when she smiled at me as she did frequently with commendable tolerance. I think my fairy godmother, the Lady Fu, must have come along for the ride and I did proffer my thanks. And I might add that I managed to work out a few solutions for myself and gave congratulations to a brain which appears to be still operating slightly more reliably than most modern technology.) And the final upshot to all this was that an exercise which normally takes ten minutes took half an hour today. Fortunately, Ms Medeea was running late (probably due to a large number of people my age having to fill in a form on a bloody tablet!)
Problem number 2: The big one. After being subject to the usual Dr Mengele stuff with grinder, sucky tube, and scraping tool, it was time to say ‘see you in six months’ to the incomparable Ms Medeea. ‘No you won't,’ she replied, ‘I’m leaving. I might stay around this area or I might go home.’
Shock-horror in abundance! Medeea leaving my orbit? This cannot be. I know I’ve waxed eloquent about her attributes before, but now I can add a little extra. I think she is the only adult I’ve ever completely trusted (at least since my parents’ separation when I was five.) I inclined to trust too easily, you know, and so my compensation for the flaw is probably a little overstretched.
I did, nevertheless, make an appointment for next January, and can only hope that Ms M’s replacement is a woman. The fact of the matter is, you see, I don’t mind women sticking their fingers in my mouth – there’s something vaguely motherly and natural about it – but I’ve never been too keen on men doing it. Besides, male dentists are prone to the delusion that they have the right to boss you around, and that inevitably produces unwanted conflict.
Then again, I’m currently awaiting an appointment for my annual CT scans at the hospital. If they should prove unfavourable, maybe my disembodied spirit will be able to accompany Ms Medeea on her way home to the Carpathians. I doubt she’d mind.
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