Okay I'll admit it I've had a bad day at work, and then I kept thinking about that appt from tgg! Well this is how I think it would have gone! Please review!
I stretched out on my chair cracking all the vertebra in my back, my nurse Fleur was setting up for the next patient, and I was supposed to be finishing my notes from the last one. My eyes however had other ideas and kept sliding off the screen. I made a note on my day sheet, and went back to watching to Fleur. Our scrub nurse today was Monique, and she and Fleur were chatting animatedly about the next patient. Tall and distinguished, he was always a bit of a mystery. We knew of course that he worked for the Government, quite a lot of our patients do, but he's clearly something else. Like a lot of our patients he insists of his PA accompanying him into the Surgery, mostly these girls are blond and pretty but with little else going for them. This gentlemen's PA was very different clever and almost psychically attached to him, she rarely did more than play on her blackberry, but the second he asked her anything she was there, regardless of me at his side. Also, and this is what made the girls gossip, she has a different name every visit.
'Are you ready for Mr Holmes yet Jas?' Fleur asked me suddenly
I hadn't noticed they'd finished setting up, well I thought I'd better start a two-hour root treatment and crown prep is not my favorite thing to do. It's uncomfortable, and though I find them fairly easy my mind wanders. A patient like Mr Holmes makes it doubly hard constantly texting, trying to speak and thinking he could do a better job.
He marches into my surgery, swinging that ridiculous umbrella, leaving Fleur and his assistant tottering behind him.
'Oh, Dr Layton' he announces as if I was the last person he expected to see, normally I stay seated while Fleur settles the patient, but for Mr Holmes this is never an option. He makes me stand to shake his hand; it's uncomfortable otherwise. 'I see your wife made you buy that puppy'. As he passes his umbrella to Fleur, and sits on the operating chair with a flourish of his coat, I study my pristine scrubs. Not a hair, not a stain, fresh on today and my white surgical shoes were immaculate.
'Your not wearing a formal shirt, Dr Layton. Which means you are concerned about it for some reason, the logical reason is that your wife finally bought the puppy you were telling me about last time.'
I hate this man, I was already out of sorts, and now he is just waiting for me, and my mind is out of sorts. Of course Lucy had made me buy that damn puppy, of course that's why I hadn't worn anything under my scrubs, and that damn man knew it.
I explain the procedure root filling the lower right second permanent molar, which according the radiographs taken last time, has decayed under the original filling through the dentine to the root surface. The original filling was just on the mesial edge, but Mr Holmes sees me so infrequently (luckily) that decay had spread from a cuspal fissure and by the time I managed to take bitewing radiographs it was too late. I planned to drill down the tooth to a core and fit a porcelain-bonded crown on top.
He sat there, barely conceding to listen to me, typing on his damn blackberry, poor Fleur buzzed around him, but he totally ignored her. I was quite vicious when administering the Local; I used 1:30000 Lignocaine, hoping the adrenaline that would immediately start coursing might stop him trying to talk. It didn't.
Fleur had set up the rubber dam and when I placed it, I didn't apologize for it's restrictive movements. I was glad of it the man is infuriating. I had of course placed a curly saliva ejector beside his tongue, so I couldn't here his constant mumbling over the whirr of the compressor.
Then the texting started, I have a TV above the chair, I will happily place anything on the ipod for my patients, but I do insist that they turn off their phone. Somehow though, I falter in front of Mr Holmes.
When I started to open the cavity, I concentrated on the surgical area, however when I reached up for my probe, I looked straight at the screen of his blackberry. That infuriating, idiotic, ridiculous man was actually telling off his brother, via text during my surgery.
During the filing and cleaning of the canal I was engrossed, but could see Fleur struggling to read the blackberry everytime she passed me a file. While waiting for her to refill the wash I took another look, now he was admonishing someone, who was clearly in the same room as his brother. For a moment a just stopped and read the furious messages, until that harangue assistant coughed and like a naughty schoolboy I went back to my work.
I used Smear Clear, so during it's curing time I normally tell the patient to relax their mouths. Mr Holmes didn't need telling, he started talking to his assistant, only him!
Fleur was giggling and Monique had found an excuse to come and watch this man, actually speak to the Prime Minister on the phone through a sheet of rubber!
I was grateful to begin the crown prep.
The noise of the drill succeeded in drowning out my thoughts, and I admit I probably spent longer shaping the crown for impression than I would have done normally, but the sound was so cathartic.
When I finally placed the impression I thought he might stop, with a mouth full of silicon paste no one is at their best, but this man was still texting his brother. I was beginning to feel desperate, this is not a cheap procedure, I normally love them, I can at least think of what to spend my share of the profit on, but today all I could think to do was get it over with. I would have normally placed a temporary crown to protect the core, I didn't. Mr Holmes had systemp, quicker, light cured and probably the cheats way of covering exposed dentine.
As I tried to dismiss, him, and Fleur attempted to clean him up, I was unceremoniously barged out of the way by the assistant I hate that.
'You will of course contact my office, when the crown is back from the lab Dr Layton' Mr Holmes drawled, not a question but telling me what I should do. He then immediately started back on the phone, and with a swish of his coat and a twirl of his umbrella he was gone, and Fleur, Monique and I were alone.
In ten days time, I think I'll try and be ill.
Ooops I think I may have given away my profession, lol!
Love to Fleur and Lucy, Monique is just in my fetid imagination!