Oh, no! I'm not ready for this. For years and years I've been saying I can't move away because I have a great dentist. A great dentist is hard to find and I've had one for over 30 years. I first went to him when he was a young dentist in a small practice near my home. Twenty-some years ago I moved across the county, miles away from him, but continued to drive to his office for routine visits and non-routine visits. When I first moved across the county, I briefly used a dentist near my new home but quit the new dentist when he dropped a crown down my throat. I fled back to the old dentist, vowing that I would never leave him again.
Last night I broke a tooth. I thought, okay, no big deal--my dentist is an artist, a genius in his field, no fear, he'll fix it. So I called his office first thing this morning and Valerie, who works at the front desk and has become like a member of my family, broke the news to me. The master guru best dentist in the world retired two weeks ago on short notice. He has been diagnosed with Parkinson's disease.
Until today I claimed that I stayed here because I love my dentist. Now what do I do?