Visited a new dentist today. This was after making an appointment in the spring. And about four days of text messages asking, over and over and bloody over to confirm the appointment. After which the emails started. And, each of them asking you to pre-register.
The things a dentist’s office now asks new patients customers these days is positively invasive. More so than most of the tools on that rolling stainless steel cart, even.
This place is a big operation, and they’re operating in an old house, which is pretty customary around here. This one is a sprawling joint. It was difficult to find the exit when my perfunctory appointment was complete.
They took about 45 x-rays. How my brain still works, I don’t know. She said I had good teeth. Here’s the new gimmick. You go in for a checkup, but then you have to go back for cleanings. We’re not doing separate appointments for each every six months.
But otherwise, it was fine. I really, really, really don’t care for hands in my face. It’s not the dentist, or the dentistry. It’s the personal space. It’s the hands.
And also the realization that this is about selling you things as much as health care. Our previous dental expert always had something to offer you, and it was all vital and grim. But it was never the same thing twice. A few years in, you start to notice.
I had a nice late evening ride. It was just 21 miles, around the extended neighborhoods, if you will. All of it was familiar, but I tried to do things in different orders.
Here’s the sod farm, I ride by here in one direction or the other quite frequently.
And here’s some of the ubiquitous corn, and my shadow selfie.
This pasture is always empty, as far as I can tell.
Here are a few of my old friends.
And some of my newer friends.
Finally, my racing buddy. When I go down his road we often chase one another. A nice break, I guess, from his job herding the sheep.
Sometimes I win. Sometimes he wins. He must have somehow known I was coming today. He got a head start and I couldn’t pass him let him win.
