I had my final hospital appointment this week, which was called, rather scarily, the Decision Appointment. It was in a clinic with loads of student dentists/orthodontists milling around, but I’m an old hand at random people looking into my mouth, so it didn’t bother me that odd ones kept popping over to ask me questions and look at x-rays. What did annoy me, though, was when a guy wearing a white shirt with naval epaulets came over, followed by a pack of wannabe surgeons. It transpired this was “The Captain”, an orthognathic surgeon at the hospital (which is in a city with a large naval presence, hence a military surgeon) but he failed to mention this to me. So I’m sitting there whilst this man leans over me and starts barking, “well, have you made a decision? What is it?” I couldn’t bring myself to reply initially as a) I had no idea who he was, and b) I was completely transfixed by his eyebrows. I’m not kidding, his left one had hairs about 3 inches long which stuck out at a bristly 45 degree angle from his forehead. The right one was equally as lush in its length, but lay flatter – the more well-behaved of the two, you might say. So between annoyance at his rudeness in not introducing himself, and being mesmerised by his abundant eye foliage, it took me a while to gather my thoughts and tell him that I’d decided to put it off for a while, but would reconsider it in a couple of years’ time. The Captain harrumphed a bit, but said that was fine.
My regular orthodontist then came over, thank god, and we had a nice chat during which she kept throwing out questions to the students about me. I was pleased that I knew the answers, too – maybe I should consider a career change? I’ve certainly spent about half my life visiting that place, so it could be an option… At the end of it she patted me on the head, which was sweet, albeit something that made me feel about ten, and told me that I had to be 200% sure I wanted surgery so she thought it was sensible to put it off. She also said she could just straighten the teeth if I was happy to give up 15 months for it, and to end up with an “overjet”. Having lived with an overjet for nigh on 16 years, I think I can deal with it. The plan at the moment, therefore, is to leave it whilst S and I ponder great issues such as The Future, and Will We End Up Leaving The Country? I think in the end that I will just opt for the straightening, though, as the thought of having my jawbones cracked open is still not that appealing. Funny that!
On a completely different topic, my search for a new planner has yielded fruit this week when I sourced this lovely one in the Architecture Centre. I um’ed and ah’ed for a while over whether to buy it, as when you’ve been looking as long as I have, you have to be certain. In the end its very soft cover seduced me.
The only snag is that I have to write the dates in the diary myself, as it’s not sold for a specific year, but the funkiness of the paper used for it definitely made up for this laboursome task.
So that’s my weekend planned then – me, a gel ink pen and calendars for 2009 and 2010…