Dentists are the worst patients. We all know the signs, but we also know all the excuses.

It started a week ago with a deep ache in my jaw.

At first it was sharp and persistent, then it settled into a low, pulsing pressure that spread up to the side of my face.

For the past few days, I'd catch myself grinding against it without knowing,

biting down just to meet the resistance.

It got bad enough that I had to take an x-ray between appointments.

I thought maybe I'd miss something obvious,

like a cracked cusp, an inflamed ligament.

But everything came up clean.

I told myself it would ease up in a day or two.

Most things do.

I work at a small dental practice, which consists of three rooms in a waiting area, no larger than a living room.

The building had once been a bank, long before my time, and the old vault door still sat bolted to the rear hallway wall, a relic we couldn't afford to remove.

We used the bolt as a supply room now.

Stock came in through the side entrance and got stored behind that heavy door where the

safety deposit boxes used to be.

I'd taken over the practice from my mentor nearly 20 years ago.

Back when the carpets were new,

and the NHS still sent inspectors.

Since then, I've had budgets slashed, suppliers cutting corners, fewer staff, and fewer patients who could afford regular care.

But, I kept going.

A girl in the chair today couldn't have been more than eight.

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