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(Not today part 2) 

This week I wrote a blog called ‘Not today’ and you can read it here if you missed it. 

Carl and Marian asked me in the comments or by email what I meant when I said “sometimes the most important things are the things that are not happening today”. 

In the heat of battle last year, when things were worse than not very good, it looked very much like I might have bet everything on the ranch and I was about to lose the ranch and quite a lot more. 

I'm really not exaggerating here to suggest that we were on the wire roundabout May 2020. 

I’m not the first person to be there nor will I be the last but there I was. 

On the 4th of June 2020 I saw the first patient out of lockdown (four days early). 

I had a patient who was in pain and I decided to test my new SOP by extracting the patients tooth and getting her out of pain. 

I felt it was prudent at that stage to test drive our SOP on an individual patient. 

I came back into surgery after almost three months of lockdown wondering how many days I would have in this building, the one that we dreamt about, and built with blood, sweat and tears which was slipping through our fingers by the minute. 

And so, I saw the patient in surgery and extracted the tooth and they were so grateful for the care that they’d received. 

The patient turned round to me after the extraction and said “I need to replace the tooth please, will you replace it for me?” And we discussed the possibility of a dental implant and she wanted to start right now. 

When I finished the appointment I walked out of treatment room six and down the corridor and in the few paces to the left hand turn at the end I realised that at one point I would walk down that corridor for the last time. 

I realised there would be a day in my life where I would walk down that corridor and then never walk down it again. 

I realised I might choose that day or it might be chosen for me but I realised it was not that day. 

After this I made a habit of walking out of treatment room six after long days or surgery days or consultations or any other clinical activities I was performing and I would whisper to myself ‘not today’. 

I asked the guys at the practice to put a little sign together so that I could see it properly and touch it as often as I remembered, to realise the privileged position that I found myself in and the joy of walking down that corridor, that for so long, had seemed like a dream and then for so long had seemed like a nightmare. 

So, for Carl and Marian, that’s the explanation. 

There will be a day where I come here which is my last day but that day is not today. 

Blog Post Number - 2886