• Roles are reversed as randy doctor becomes reluctant patient
Image: PIXABAY
Diary,
I’m at the dentist’s, not because I had any problem with my teeth but because Dr Ouko happens to be one hell of a gorgeous orthodontist, who won’t let me see her any other way but as a patient. And now, she’s on to me.
“When did you learn I wasn’t a genuine patient?” I ask.
“The moment you walked in,” she says.
“But we met at the café almost a week ago.”
“I never forget a face. Especially Sura Mbaya.”
That hits a spot. “I may be Sura Mbaya, but still, I could have come with a real toothache.”
“And of all the dental joints in all the towns in all the world, you walked into mine?”
I laugh out loud. “That’s from Casablanca. I like your sense of humour. So, why would you not give me your number at the café?”
“Because I don’t date bad boys.”
I make an innocent face. “Me? A bad boy? You have it all wrong. My mother says I’m a great pick for any woman.”
“And you know what my mother used to say? ‘The older you get, the better you get. Unless you’re a banana.’ I’ve grown wiser with age.”
“Where have I heard that before?”
“Rose in Golden Girls. But you do have one bad molar that needs filling.”
“But that will make me your genuine patient. You can’t date your patient, can you?”
“I said one molar. Unless you keep consuming mouthfuls of sugar, then…”
Quickly, I lean back and open my mouth. “Let’s do it.”
Dr Ouko raises the chair and fidgets with my tooth, but she can’t seem to get a good grip on it.
“Damn!” she says and tries again. Pumps up the chair, dips a probe into my open mouth, but still she remains frustrated.
“Is there a problem?” I ask with some difficulty, seeing as my mouth is pried open.
“This isn’t working. I’ll be right back.”
She disappears into an inner room and comes back a few seconds later wielding a hammer, pliers and a screw driver. “This should do it.”
“Hell, no!” I jump out of the chair. “I won’t let you use pliers and a screw driver on my teeth. If you have a problem with me chasing you to your practice, you can say so, but you don’t have to scare me with workshop tools. What kind of a dentist are you?”
“Relax, Tom,” she says with a smile. “It’s the chair that’s been giving me problems. I need to adjust it.”
If I was a light-skinned guy, my cheeks would be flushed with embarrassment right now.