Dentists Waiting Room

It was the day of the painfully dreaded appointment. It didn’t help at all that it was about a million below freezing outside. One look out of the small wooden framed window told me that there wasn’t much hope of a pleasant journey to the surgery. I loathed the thought of leaving my warm and comfortable bed to go outside where it was everything but warm and comfortable. But alas, it had to be done. So quickly I got myself ready and set off down the long but straight road. The main street looked as if it was ten miles away when really it was only half a mile.

Along the road there were very few cars parked as most people would have been at work. The bus stop at the top of the road sheltered an old pensioner, a man who looked in forties and his aged dog, from the heavy rain and roaring wind. The tension and nervousness was beginning to build inside me. I thought about things that were totally unrelated to my appointment, like how lucky I am to get a day off school and what my plans for the weekend were, but no matter what I thought about, my mind always drifted back to what lay ahead. The weather reflected the way I felt inside; horrible.

Many times have I walked down this road, but none of those journeys had felt as long as this one. It felt as if I’d been walking for hours! I could see down into the moderately busy main street now. The surgery was just at the other side of it, so I didn’t have far to go. As I got closer I kept telling myself that there was nothing to worry about and I was just taking it too seriously. I stopped at the traffic lights and pressed the button to stop the traffic and a little white light lit up the word ‘WAIT’. The traffic lights then went amber, and then red allowing me to cross the road.

As I got to the other side of the road I stepped in a huge puddle, soaking my jeans up to my ankle. Things weren’t really going well for me. I walked down the wet and mossy steps onto the main street, being careful not to slip and fall. I could now see the surgery entrance but I avoided looking at it to keep my mind off it. Instead I looked at all the people around me, walking up and down the street. I bet their day was going just fine. Avoiding the traffic, I crossed the next street onto a side street which lead to the front entrance of the surgery.

There was a small, brown, square-shaped gate with a picture of a large 17th century ship carved in it. Other than this the outside of the surgery looked very modern and sterile. There was a slight attempt of a garden at the front which consisted of two flower pots with half dead flowers in them. Beside the large, glass front door there was a silver plaque which said, ‘Dr. Gumgum’, and another one on the other side of the door stating the opening hours of the surgery. I pushed the door and entered reluctantly.

When I opened the door I got a whiff of something between mint and bleach. The slowly building anxiety had suddenly shot up uncontrollably; I was scared. The reception was situated right beside the front door and when I went in the receptionist sorted me out with all the information I needed. There was a long hallway with doors leading to places unknown to me. The waiting room was through the first door on my left, so said the receptionist. Sure enough I went in the first door on my left and I was greeted by posters with information on teeth and bowls of mints in each corner.

There were only three people other than me in the waiting room and one of them was no older than five. He got on my nerves quite a lot; he wouldn’t be quiet nor would he sit down for one minute! The mother of the child sat reading OK! magazine not paying any attention in the slightest to what her child was doing. The third person in the waiting room was somewhere in his mid-sixties and looked like a very cheery old man. He sat reading a book he must have brought with him because I didn’t recognise it.

I went and sat as far from the annoying child as possible and picked up a dated copy of TopGear Magazine. I tried to take my mind off my appointment by reading up on the new Bugatti Veyron supercar but even that didn’t work. A ringing noise went off and a quiet voice said from the speaker, ‘Simon Johnston to surgery four please, that’s Simon Johnston to surgery four’. I waited, hoping that it was the little annoying child’s name that had just been called but there was no such luck. The old, cheery looking man put his mysterious book into his satchel, got up and made an exit from the waiting room.

I could see out of the corner of my eye that young Simon Johnston was ripping up a magazine in the corner of the room. The waiting room door clicked open and a tall, stoop shouldered man entered without glancing in any direction but in front of him. He walked over to the corner, sat down and put his headphones back in his ears. I was beginning to get impatient, wondering when Simon will get called in to the surgery. Then something unexpected happened; the ringing noise, the voice, my name, surgery two. I was hit with a sudden feeling of fear.

I looked around me, nobody else looked up. It must be me,’ I thought. So I got up slowly out of my seat, feeling reluctant towards leaving the room. I clicked open the door, walked out and clicked it shut behind me. I walked down the long corridor which seemed even longer than before. I came to a door which said, ‘Surgery 1’. I walked past it, knowing that the next door I came to was the one I must go in. I reached the oak door with a plaque saying, ‘Surgery 2’. I grabbed the knob, scared to turn it. Finally I turned it, and it turned with a squeak, and I entered the bright and pristine surgery. It wasn’t as scary as I had thought it would be.