I hate going to see medical professionals. This is a problem, because I’m essentially twenty-two going on ninety, and every single part of me is falling apart, so I have to go and see them quite a lot, but I’m petrified, almost all of the time.
My particular favourite not to like is the dentist. I am most terrified of going to the dentist, because dentists are lovely people who all have an odd quirk of wanting to stick metal hooks in my mouth and pull to see if anything hurts. So, I avoid them like the plague. Left to my own devices, if I suspected a cavity was forming in one of my teeth, I would probably just fill the hole with Spackle and get one with my life. Which is why mump exists - to keep an eye on me and make sure that when I’m prescribed a medication, I don’t just stop taking it within a week, because I’m bored of it. So, when I recently lied about attending a dentist’s appointment, and then admitted to the lie, she told me that when I did go, I had to bring a copy of the receipt, just to prove it, because secretly she cares about me, and shows it by acting as my primary caregiver. When I mentioned this to my dentist, he wrote a little note to her on the back of my receipt, and signed it.
