Tough Thing, This

For a few seconds, I feel queasy. What have I done? I should have done my information work before deciding to come here, regardless of the relative emergency of it all!

The dentist seems to have no shame: “So your teeth is healthy and that’s a good thing, right?!?” He sounds angry. “But it’s not good for me!” He sprays water all over my shirt and I wonder whether he might damage one of my healthy teeth to earn more money with this damn alien. An Ex-Yugoslav with healthy teeth, don’t tell me this is a thing now!

I am actually too stunned to react to this, what with my mouth open and my shirt sprinkled all over with the contents of my mouth, but I do manage to listen carefully after the ordeal, when he suggests a larger treatment he himself has said the month before would be necessary only later, if certain conditions occurred. “But you said last time we should wait till it is necessary,” I stammer and he looks even angrier by the minute. Without explicitly saying so, I get thrown out: “Well. Then this is all!” He glares at me, burning hatred holes in my back while I am hastily leaving the room.

Afterwards, I need a few days to process this crazy shit.


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