This is a big week for me in terms of personal tasks. At the top of my list is going to Navy dental. I look forward to getting my teeth cleaned, but this picture of a Navy Sailor (who I know!) does not inspire confidence. Who thought to put braces on the kid?
I had the joy and privilege of going to Navy dental today. I have never quite understood why anyone would seek to be a dentist, but that may have more to do with me than them. Rooting around in Seaman Jonnhy’s mouth is not my idea of either a holiday or a workday. Rather, it sounds like punishment.
Anyway, I knew the Navy dentist from prior meetings. She is another lieutenant and about 4’11. I am blessed or cursed with the ability to remember people and the facts about them. I see them again after a year and it is as if it were the last time we talked. Only, sometimes I have to mask my memory because the other person has poor recall. (Or perhaps I made no impression?)
Disclaimer: I sometimes joke around on this blog, but this is no joke. The tiny LT picked up a chart, not mine, and said: Lieutenant Mongo? She stumbled over the last name, so I did not think she was joking. And I remembered she was not too jokey the last time we met. But I played it like a joke, not that she got it. She brushed LT Mongo’s chart aside and found mine. And we chatted. She was surprised I knew what ship she had come off of, the Nimitz, and that I remembered her.
For a very brief brief brief nano-second, I wondered if Navy Dental had nick-named their patients like what happened to Christine Duran, Christina Huerta and Isabel Robles at the Chilly D’s Sports Lounge and Cameo Club Casino in Stockton.
LT Mongo, out. . .