My visit to the dental hygienist was postponed because it would have fallen in the middle of the chemo cycles. This far on I felt I was sufficiently recovered to see her again, as I did today. She's lovely, with a wonderful smile (well you would expect that wouldn't you) and she made me feel as if she really knew me, although we'd only ever met once before as we've changed dental practice.
For safety's sake I explained about my condition and the chemo and my vow that, if spared, I'd be spending a vast amount of money on a crown and some tooth whitening. You see I did promise when I last saw the dentist that I'd let him replace my missing crown - and it does look increasingly as if he'll be getting the job.
Anyway, upon leaving, the charming dental hygienist's nurse - who had been in prime position not only to see my stained and worn teeth close-up but also my ageing complexion, my scraggy neck and chicken wing arms - volunteered: "I can't get over the fact you've over 60 - you look like someone in the forties." Well I came very close to hugging her as that just made my day.