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It is the nature of the world that we live in and how it has changed so dramatically over the past 2 or 3 decades, and perhaps our fragile psychological states, but for many of us one pebble can cause an avalanche and we are teetering on the edge of sanity?

The topic that has been written about below has been written about before much more eloquently and intuitively by my friend Dominic but I suspect it is a phenomenon that is happening across the country. Not just in my profession, but in many others, but it is only my profession that I can use as a mirror on society.

My usual Saturday last week started at 7am or thereabouts as the boy came in to wake us up so I pulled myself out of bed with creaking joints and all and also took the dog out. On Saturday’s I take the dog out at 7am, return back whilst grabbing something to eat and take my kids to their swimming club where they start at 8am.

I met my friend Stuart for a coffee for 20 minutes or so and then settled down to do a little bit of work planning for the next week as this is one of my favourite things on a Saturday morning, to get that out the way so I can shut the laptop and not open it again until Monday. The kids finish about quarter past nine, we then take a trip back to the house, whilst buying some bacon on the way. Grace is at such an age now in which I can leave them to get their own bacon rolls ready as I take the dog out for a second walk of the day (she is a spoilt dog).

There was a pile of post on the mat which Grace had collected in for me which included just the usual rubbish from accountants, banks, junk etc. but as I came back with the dog around about 10am there was a slip of cardboard still stuck in the letterbox, picture of which is attached to this blog.

This is the red and white special delivery notice from Royal Mail informing you that there was a letter that had arrived which required a signature, therefore were unable to deliver it, and now has to be collected from the depot.

Such is the process, as I am sure everybody reading this very well knows, that it is not collectable until lunchtime the following day.

So, ended my weekend.

The trauma (for caring, ethical, honest and honest practitioners at least) of regularity healthcare cases such is that all it takes is one of those leaflets to land for the wounds to open entirely.

I racked my brains wondering which patient I had upset that I did not know about because at the present time I do not think there is anybody who is particularly upset with me. I thought of colleagues who may have decided “to have a go” or something from my dim and distant past that I had not remembered. It came back to me time, and time and time again throughout Saturday and Sunday but for one hour on Sunday, which I will write about in Part Two, dominated things for that period. Is this the intended effect of an overbearing regularity system which has lost the way in “right touch regulation”? Should this not be corrected by my restored faith in the General Dental Council and all their measures to bring regularity procedures “upstream”? Should I not be reassured by the charm offence of GDC Directors traveling around the country trying to smooth things over with the profession that they have broken and damaged? I sadly did not feel that way.

I was not expecting a special delivery letter from anybody else and it was clearly addressed to me. Therefore, it was with significant trepidation that I turned up at the Royal Mail depot at 11:30am the following day to collect the letter.

It was like everyone was conspiring against me. The guy behind the counter went to collect my item that required a signature and brought back a parcel.

My heart rejoiced until he realised it was the wrong one and went back into the depot again to collect something else.

That was a long 30 second as I waited for the inevitable letter from the General Dental Council with a small special delivery sticker which was informing me that I was under investigation and I should begin to inform my Defence Union, the Primary Care Trust, my mother and father and all my colleagues, before I crawl under a rock of shame about how bad a practitioner I am.

It used to be those forms of special delivery notifications were exciting because it seemed that something good was coming through the post.

For the likes of us, for the likes of me that is no longer the case.

He returned again, the guy from Royal Mail, and this time in his hands he had a soft parcel.

It was grey in colour and contained clothing or something of this sort and was not in fact a death sentence from the dental regulator.

Of course, you can suggest to me that I am neurotic and that my response is excessive and ridiculous and that it is very important to get over myself and get on with my life after, what was for me, one of the most traumatic experiences of my professional career.

But this cannot be right if it is happening to any other people other than me.

The impact on fitness to practice cases on medics was measured by the General Medical Council in suicides. The collateral damage that is caused by these cases is extraordinary which ended careers, sold practices and defensive dentistry.

This is despite the fact that the former Chief Executive of the General Dental Council did not understand what defensive dentistry was.

It was cycling clothes. It was clothes from my coach’s cycling brand that I should have been so excited to receive and so happy to get home and try on. As a result of the approach of the General Dental Council, and their hard hitting and heavy-handed dealings with the profession, it is more people than me that are traumatised by the little red and white slip from the Royal Mail.

Blog post number: 1464