Wednesday, May 12, 2021

In My Big Fat Gob

My periodontist, Brendan Maxado, is off sick, apparently, for a number of months. That seemed like an awfully long time, I thought as the nice receptionist explained it to me, and my mind quickly reeled through all the reasons he could be off.

He wants me to see his hygienist instead. “Okay, sure,” I said. I guess. Why not? (Got to protect your market share, I guess?)

I see Brandan for roughly 15 minutes and he charges me $250, which is approx. $1000 per hour. (You know, if you do the maths) I wonder how much the hygienist will charge me next week?

The first periodontist I saw was a humourless woman in East Melbourne. She had some kind of nerve damage accident and retired immediately after the incident.

The second periodontist I saw was a big, fat jolly fellow, still kind of no nonsense, though, he dropped dead of a heart attack, somewhere between his practise in Melbourne and his practice on the Gold Coast.

And now Brendan is off sick. I’m hard on my periodontists.

Well, I hope Brendo (not that I call him that to his face) is okay. He’s kind of sexy (nose twitch) in a straight, conservative, tall and blond, uni-nerd, kind of way. He wears a V-necked, pale blue, jump suit, and I get a glimpse of his hairy chest and wiry frame, when we stand at the computer after the consultation to discuss my progress.


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