Blame British Airways. It was their sirloin steak that collapsed the tooth filling at 36,000 feet.
The very next chomp brought agony at 2.00 in the morning as the side of the tooth broke off onto the plastic plate.
Four more hours to Mumbai. With the paracetamol from the cabin attendant doing nothing at all. A pounding headache and cheek swollen out like a puffer fish.
Hurry up and wait
Murder at the airport. Ten hours to get a passport stamp, though it could only have been ten minutes. The hotel sent a car, hooray. Except the driver spoke no English – happy-happy cruising like we had all day.
Not nice to die at sunrise – in a strange place, thousands of miles from home.
Except the manager was brilliant. One look and he reached for the phone.
“Emergency please, doctor luvvy-duvvy.”
A mistake, surely. Or an unfamiliar Indian name.
Doctor Lavi Davi, that seemed about right.
The manager spun the driver round and shoved him at the car. “Jaldi karana,” he yelled and slammed the door.
No cruising now. Lewis Hamilton on steroids. Schoolkids, bikes, bullock carts, buses – all the people on the planet crammed into the single road ahead. No need for pain-killers, just triple double tranquillisers.
Another ten minutes that felt like ten hours.
The Empire sleeps on
Quieter side streets. A crumbling wall. A short dusty driveway to a broken down colonial relic of a house from the days of the Raj.
Doctor Luvvy-Duvvy in big letters on a purple signboard.
Out of the car in a cloud of dust. Through a crowded waiting room into air conditioned coolness and a waiting dentist’s chair.
The door shut. Ah, sanity!
A big 4×4 pulled up outside. A flashy designer job for climbing up on pavements. Mercedes or Porsche or something. This would bend the debit card.
A nurse set up the chair. Flashy was right. The latest recliner model with all the goodies. She set up the splash-bib and Health & Safety glasses. Just like home.
“Doctor will be here now.” She nodded at the car outside the window.
A vision stepped in. Straight from a Bollywood movie. Poised, elegant and drop-dead gorgeous.
She pulled a purple smock over her head. The heart-shaped badge said Luvvy-Duvvy.
“Doctor Geetha Khan,” she said. Melodic, like wind chimes. “Let’s take a look.”
Silky smooth, surely a goddess. “The hotel said it was life or death.”
The gentle dental touch
Her fingers were careful, bred to handling crystal. The touch was confident. She knew her stuff.
Another ten minutes. Ten hours for discomfort. Ten seconds while this magical creature worked her miracle. Pain gone, swelling gone. Relief at being human again.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” It couldn’t be said enough.
She smiled. The whole world sighed.
Sitting up, slightly giddy. “Please tell me, I’m new to your country. Why Luvvy-Duvvy?”
The smile broadened – somewhere the light shone brighter and flowers opened their petals.
Ultra violet germ killer
“Over there,” she pointed to a grey box on wheels, the Luvvy-Duvvy badge big across its front panel. “We named our practice after it – it saves lives.”
“Come.” She took my hand – instant, irreversible love.
Back into the crowded waiting room, the nurse coming too. The Doc-goddess had a remote in her hand. She pulled the door to, not quite closing it.
Reflected purple light flickered off the wall panels inside.
“Pulsed ultra-violet,” she said. “This is a hot country. People come straight in off the street, bringing all manner of germs. Take your chances outside, operating theatre inside.”
She nodded at the door. “Luvvy-Duvvy for the UV. That thing sterilises my operating room before and after every patient. Five minutes, bang.”
She pushed open the door. A long glass tube was subsiding back into the machine. “No viruses, no bacteria. I work with people’s open mouths every day. No infections on my watch.”
The crowded waiting room was watching.
“Please excuse me, this is a busy day,” she said. Wind chimes again. “Enjoy our country while you can. Just don’t chew on that side for a day or two.”
A miracle place, India. Can’t help loving the place.
Back Off, Bacteria! is the blog of Hyper Hygiene Ltd, supplier of what we’re convinced is the most effective health protection system in the world. A fully mobile, all-automatic Hypersteriliser machine mists up workplaces with ionised hydrogen peroxide, spreading everywhere and eliminating all bacteria, viruses and fungi.
Hypersteriliser units are supplied to businesses and institutions across the UK, notably the haematology and other critical units at Salford Royal Hospital, Greater Manchester; Doncaster & Bassetlaw Hospital; South Warwickshire Hospital; Coventry & Warwickshire Hospital; and Queen Victoria Hospital, East Grinstead.
The Halo Hypersteriliser system achieves 6-log Sterility Assurance Level – 99.9999% of germs destroyed. It is the only EPA-registered dry mist fogging system – EPA No 84526-6. It is also EU Biocide Article 95 Compliant.
Originally posted on 28 July 2018 @ 5:55 am
Originally posted on 28 July 2018 @ 5:55 am