And now to something truly unpleasant. I don’t know in which order to put this: Teeth first, dentist second? In the medical profession there are lots of specializations. First you study for years, then – for even more years – you peer up people’s nostrils, up their birth canal, down their throat or – in the case of dentists – holes. Cavities by another name.
Dentists may earn a fortune. They do. But whilst you have your ‘client’ clamped down on your chair you can’t even have a conversation. Believe me I’ve tried – and I am the patient. The other thing – and this is why I won’t have my eyes operated on in December, the make merry season – dentists need a steady hand. Can you imagine a dentist with a tremor, even a slight one?
Some years ago I came across a statistic – on both alcoholism and suicide. Not that the two are related other than that alcoholism is a slow and sneaky way to kill yourself. So the statistic was startling: Journalists, Vets and anyone living in Vienna (that’s Wien/Austria) are more likely to commit suicide than someone doing accounts. Figures, doesn’t it?
Apropos of nothing: I once took our cat to the vet. Locum. I took one look at the guy. Alcoholics have nothing but my sympathy. Even if they are just about to operate on my cat. I made my excuses. Still remember that sad look in that guy’s eyes when I left the surgery, cat not having been touched. He knew I knew. Sorry I can’t save all of mankind from themselves.
How did I get onto teeth? Something is brewing. Usually on a Saturday afternoon. So, I’ll have another three days to go.
PS Other than that – currently not so much rewriting my will as composing a masterpiece – I am undecided whether to spare the Angel funeral costs by donating my precious body to medical research. Rationale tells me one thing. Squeamishness another. I do not wish to be slaughtered. Even if it is for the good of mankind. We’ll see. Considering that once upon a time medical students had to dig up graves to give them fodder …