If I were to make a list of the five reasons why I wouldn't leave this city I'd probably include my dentist in it.
You see, I am the hugest sissy I know when it comes to needles and medical procedures, yet I trust my dentist enough to have three wisdom teeth removed in a single afternoon. But aside from being great at understanding my pain threshold, I believe what has me looking forward to my semestral checkups are the unexpected, small, life lessons I learn through him with every visit.
He's a stern-looking man in his early fifties who has a pair of jolly eyes hiding behind his very stereotypical silver-rimmed glasses. If I were to draw a portrait of him I'd trace a picture of Dwight Schrute over that of Liam Neeson.
During my last visit, the topic of our "conversation" was travel. Obviously he did most of the talking and I took care of nodding and wowing with my brows and going Aaah" and "Uh-huh", as he examined my pearly whites. If there was a certain subtopic I was particularly interested in hearing more about, I'd repeat whatever word he last said and add a question mark at the end. For instance, it'd go something like this:
"I've travelled to every corner of this country, except for the Galapagos Islands", my dentist would say as he leaned in to have a better view of my upper left molars.
"Ga-ah-pa-gosth?", I'd manage to gibber.
"Have you been on the islands?" He'd ask. To which I'd either nod or lift my brows depending on if he was using the prickly buzzing drill on my teeth or not.
Considering how unpredictable life is, and our economy being as shitty as it is, there is a chance that in the next six months I may not find my dentist at his office for he may have moved to another city or country. It is why I decided to jot down this memory of him while the vision of it is still fresh.
I will not transcribe the whole of our conversation for there will be nothing more tediously torturous that I could possibly do to you; instead I'll summarize the two main takeaways from this travel-themed talk, which are the following:
1) Travelling/creating memories is the best gift you can give your elder self. These were my dentist's words: "the yada yada talk that 'I'll travel the world when I retire' is bullshit. By the time one retires one is suffering from God-knows how many illnesses and will not enjoy travelling as much as when one is young. And when you're sitting on your rocking chair or laying on your bed, counting the days until you die, the money you have in your bank or the material goods you leave behing will not comfort you. What will comfort you are the memories you'll have to look back from all the experiences you had and the people you met while travelling".
2) On a normal weekend there is no excuse to not travel. My dentist revealed that he always has two prepacked bags of clothing in the trunk of his car. One has beach clothes and the other has clothing adequate for colder climates. He says that it only takes for him to holler, "Get in the car, we're going on an adventure!"-- for his pack of wolves to load into the car. He gives his family no time to think up the typical stressful excuses like- I'm too tired to pack or I have homework to do. They let the gut, the condition of the weather, the overall mood of the fam to decide if they're heading for the highlands, the beach or the borders of Peru.
It may sound like he's stated the obvious and what I merely did was restate it, but I personally find these sorts of hacks, tips, reminders to be refreshening and take them as little nudges of motivation to see life differently, in a non-comformist, untraditional way. They are spritzes of lemony scents that I need when life gets too routinary and that tell me to snap out and think for myself.
You see, I am the hugest sissy I know when it comes to needles and medical procedures, yet I trust my dentist enough to have three wisdom teeth removed in a single afternoon. But aside from being great at understanding my pain threshold, I believe what has me looking forward to my semestral checkups are the unexpected, small, life lessons I learn through him with every visit.
He's a stern-looking man in his early fifties who has a pair of jolly eyes hiding behind his very stereotypical silver-rimmed glasses. If I were to draw a portrait of him I'd trace a picture of Dwight Schrute over that of Liam Neeson.
During my last visit, the topic of our "conversation" was travel. Obviously he did most of the talking and I took care of nodding and wowing with my brows and going Aaah" and "Uh-huh", as he examined my pearly whites. If there was a certain subtopic I was particularly interested in hearing more about, I'd repeat whatever word he last said and add a question mark at the end. For instance, it'd go something like this:
"I've travelled to every corner of this country, except for the Galapagos Islands", my dentist would say as he leaned in to have a better view of my upper left molars.
"Ga-ah-pa-gosth?", I'd manage to gibber.
"Have you been on the islands?" He'd ask. To which I'd either nod or lift my brows depending on if he was using the prickly buzzing drill on my teeth or not.
Considering how unpredictable life is, and our economy being as shitty as it is, there is a chance that in the next six months I may not find my dentist at his office for he may have moved to another city or country. It is why I decided to jot down this memory of him while the vision of it is still fresh.
I will not transcribe the whole of our conversation for there will be nothing more tediously torturous that I could possibly do to you; instead I'll summarize the two main takeaways from this travel-themed talk, which are the following:
1) Travelling/creating memories is the best gift you can give your elder self. These were my dentist's words: "the yada yada talk that 'I'll travel the world when I retire' is bullshit. By the time one retires one is suffering from God-knows how many illnesses and will not enjoy travelling as much as when one is young. And when you're sitting on your rocking chair or laying on your bed, counting the days until you die, the money you have in your bank or the material goods you leave behing will not comfort you. What will comfort you are the memories you'll have to look back from all the experiences you had and the people you met while travelling".
2) On a normal weekend there is no excuse to not travel. My dentist revealed that he always has two prepacked bags of clothing in the trunk of his car. One has beach clothes and the other has clothing adequate for colder climates. He says that it only takes for him to holler, "Get in the car, we're going on an adventure!"-- for his pack of wolves to load into the car. He gives his family no time to think up the typical stressful excuses like- I'm too tired to pack or I have homework to do. They let the gut, the condition of the weather, the overall mood of the fam to decide if they're heading for the highlands, the beach or the borders of Peru.
It may sound like he's stated the obvious and what I merely did was restate it, but I personally find these sorts of hacks, tips, reminders to be refreshening and take them as little nudges of motivation to see life differently, in a non-comformist, untraditional way. They are spritzes of lemony scents that I need when life gets too routinary and that tell me to snap out and think for myself.