second of all...shit, i lost my train of thought and it has only just pulled out of the station. this is getting sadly pathetic and increasingly indicative of what old age is going to be like. i won't even have the mental wherewithal to be a bitter old bitch, because i won't remember why i need to be bitter. instead i will sit there smiling vaguely at everyone, the smiley brain dead grandma, that'll be me, and I AM SO NOT INTERESTED IN THAT PARTICULAR SCENARIO!!!
oh, ok, now i know what i wanted to tell you.
i might have recently confessed that i have made my peace with the world of teeth. one of the reasons that i still occasionally wish i could be alphabetising books safe in some dusty library somewhere is because of the possibility of bodily harm that my job entails. now i don't mean to me. i do just fine walking into walls while wildly swinging my gigantic hands into sharp corners and tripping over my ludicrously large feet etc. i mean my patients.
case in point:
my second patient: a nice older lady with half a set of usable dentition.
as i start to scrape her teeth, my hand (which is holding an instrument of moderate sharpness) slips and i end up stabbing* her in the cheek. this is only the second time this has ever happened to me (kind of miraculous, now that i think about it!) but i am immediately mortified. mortified. i am already swimming in belly sweat because the office is satanically overheated this morning and i now break out in a cold sweat on top of my hot sweat. it ain't pretty. my hands start to shake. i apologize the shaken lady who's just been stabbed. jesus. can i be an apple stacker at save-on-foods? please?
not three seconds later i want to rinse her mouth and, lo and behold, the metal tip of the air-water syringe is improperly inserted and she ends up with water sprayed all over her face plus a little up her nose for good measure. this alarms me so much i drop my suction which, of course, hits the floor, so i have nothing to suck up the water with. i continue to apologize while enjoying the steady drip of several more layers of nervous sweat. i am fairly certain the sleeves of my tunic are soaking wet. jesus.
the rest of the appointment goes without a hitch but it takes me a good half hour to calm the fuck down and another hour or two to reestablish a modicum of self respect and faith in my ability as a dental professional.
so, how was your day?
*in the interests of accuracy, please be advised that due to the melodramatic nature of this publication, i may or may not be exaggerating: the "stab" wound was no bigger than a pin prick, and generated no blood, but what's the literary fun in that?