Highlighter Stars.

I went to the dental hospital today. After waiting a mere 10 minutes for my name to be called, I went in, sat on the reclining chair, had Mr Durning peer into my mouth for a couple of seconds before announcing that my teeth were, “Fine. More than fine, in fact.”

And that was that. He handed me a piece of paper, which I took to Cynthia (oh! Cynthia, how I will miss her receptionist ‘charm’) and I was discharged.

So why is this the end of an era? After all, you may be thinking, I was being discharged as an outpatient. It’s surely not that big of a deal.
Oh, how wrong you would be.

I was referred to the dental hospital when I was 10 years old. I am now 19. In that time, I have had two operations, three teeth removed, four fixed braces, one metal retainer, two plastic retainers, one false tooth, and more moulds and x-rays than you can shake a stick at. I know the staff and the staff know me. Dental nurses wave to me when they see me. Some even come over for a chat. Even Cynthia, the battleaxe of a receptionist, has warmed to me enough to ask how university is going. I almost feel she’s sad to see me go. I’ve been a fairly consistent visitor for the past 8 years.
I’ve been to four departments within the dental hospital. I started out with students working on my teeth. I ended up with the head of orthodontics and administration. Yes, apparently my teeth were complicated.

And now, unless something happens that I need to go back for, I’m done there.

Dental Drive, I shall miss you.