I’ve been doctoring it up recently. It’s not a good time to add appointments to the calendar, what with our fast-approaching return to Europe, planning a major event for R’s parents’ 50th wedding anniversary, and two weddings to sort out in the next three weeks, but there it is. I’ve hit the optometrist and the dentist and taken the plunge with a new orthopedic adjustment.
You wanna know how all that’s gone? Not well, that’s how, thanks for asking.
First of all, the new orthopedic therapist is completely creepy. He’s oddly tan and pudgy and his personal manner is reminiscent of the guy you know from frame one is guilty on Law & Order: Special Victims Unit. I was afraid to let him touch me in case he left a trail of slime. Unfortunately, he was pretty effective which made my decision to never come within ten feet of his creepy, creepy office again more difficult. But I got there.
Then I went to see my super-nice optometrist. All good. Except they tried to upsell me into anti-glare coating on my glasses lenses. On the inside. This made no sense to me – what kind of glare can be generated in the half-inch space between my glasses and my eyes? – until it occurred to me that maybe I was scowling during the appointment and they were trying to discreetly steer me towards reabsorbing my own ocular aggression. Like, they’re trying to bounce my glare back into my head rather than protecting me from any glare the world’s sending my way. Kind of insulting but also ingenious. If that’s what they meant. Which it probably isn’t.
To round out the disconcerting triumvirate of healthcare experiences, I had a full-blown panic attack at the dentist’s yesterday when they pinned me down for over an hour to do two fillings back to back. It was like Terry Gilliam had set up shop in the suburbs.
For your future information, in case you were going to try this at home, smocks with puppies and Fisher Price toys in your peripheral vision don’t offset the claustrophobia induced by having a large block of rubber wedged in your mouth and hooked up to lights and vacuum pumps.
After that ordeal, I moved on to the judgmental dental hygienist who gave me the silent treatment because I had accumulated too much plaque for her liking. Like I lie awake nights rubbing my hands together evilly and producing wheelbarrows of plaque just to spite her. It’s plaque for cripe’s sake, not nuclear warheads. And while we’re on the subject, I’d like to know who doesn’t lie about how much they floss?
I didn’t used to be an anti-dentite, but I am now. It took them a while, but they drove me to it.
From now on, I’m going to either avoid healthcare entirely or drink heavily before I go. That should make things more entertaining. For me, at least.
Categories: News, Nuisance, Miscellany
Displaced 
If we get a vote, do put me down for drinking amply before you next visit with your hygenist…you’ll be less likely to notice her scorn and perhaps you could breathe heavily just for fun.
On a different note, based on your raving review, we will be dining at The Blue Barn on our upcoming SF visit. My entire family adores cheese and we are eager to enjoy a gourmet grilled cheese. Thank you for the lovely restaurant reviews, they are ever so helpful. Cheers!