Torture room

Translation from Dutch

My visit to the dentist was a torture. Since my previous dentist retired, this was my second check-up visit with the new dentist. Last time I was the only patient, now the treatment of a previous patient had overrun and I had to wait a long time. I usually don't hate waiting - who cares where I am - I am - but there was loud music playing in the waiting room, which was torture for me. The Hema shop in Houten once turned off the music in the entire store especially for me, so that I would be able to grab a new white sheet in the right size from the shelf. I have advocated setting special times in supermarkets for people who come shopping and people who want to listen to disco. My previous dentist always deliberately left the door open between the practice room and the waiting room - little 'doctor-patient confidentiality', it had to do with his vision of openness - so that the high tones of his drill drowned out any risk of musical pounding. Here I rushed outside and waited in the sunny, freezing cold for a long time, but at a certain point I had to go back inside and alternately folded my hands and closed my eyes - not to invoke higher powers but to focus. on nothing - or put fingers in my ears. Bring earplugs next time, I have noted in my agenda for six months from now. A friend of mine told me today that she always waits outside her doctor's office for the same reason.

Finally it was my turn, I lay down in what is still called a chair but is more of a bed, saw a beautiful colored picture hanging on the ceiling above my head and I sighed: "what a peace!" When he was done and I got up again, I thanked him for the rest, I had completely recovered. I cycled home almost euphorically over the white paths in the freezing cold.