My first dentist in this town was a venerable old-timer whose white hair signified experience and safety. At least I thought so until the man gave me a root canal drilling without any anaesthetisation. I endured it in stoic silence (and noticed that the dentist was sweating even more heavily than I did and that his glasses had to be cleaned from mist by his assistent every few minutes …).
My next dentist was young and a true magician of his craft. His office was like a modern shiny spa and the assistents like a swarm of angels. I felt safe and snug again. Until the man’s mercantile vein got to bothersome. He tried to sell me anything from a new crown or a dental splint through to a tooth bleaching, a new insurance and whatnot. Again I had to flee.
For several years now, I am a patient of Doctor S. – Doctor S. may look a bit like a pirate or a mason and he talks like one, too. But I like his rough and hearty manners. He knows his trade and he does not cheat you. He always laughs at my not-so-perfect dental crown but when I meekly ask if it has to be replaced he says: “Nuts! Why replace something that’s not broken?”
Doctor S. makes no distinction between well-off patients and those on welfare. He even doctors patients without money and insurance, too. I’ve shown drawings of heroes of art and history on this blog. Here’s a plain everyday hero.
In reality, he does not look quite as much like a Soviet party apparatchik from the 80s – maybe, the drawing was influenced by my reading Sana Krasikov’s magnificent novel “The Patriots” … ;-)
Published on 12 September 2017Heyoka