Writing Attempt: Editing (Nate and the Tooth)
RACHEL
***
Dr. Oulette stared at the pile of intake forms on his desk
and muttered one word over and over: fuck.
He called Rachel into his office. Her slow approach was accented by her
signature gum snap sonata.
“David?” Rachel’s hip opened the door and kept it open.
“What’d you need? I got through the call list. Only four pick-ups. Joaquin
Jackson is finally paid in full.”
“Surprising.”
“Only took 6 years. Pretty sure he lost the fillings by
now.”
“Rachel, don’t judge. You know-“
“I know, sorry.”
“No you’re not.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“No you’re not.”
“So what’dya want?” Rachel pillaged her pocket for her pen.
“This mandatory healthcare act is fucking fantastic until I
have to intake 34 patients in three days and decide who to make priority. I
need some front desk intel, if you will.”
“Okay?”
“If I’m going to make this work, while in turn making us a living, I need to find the exact right
order to accept these patients in.”
“Okay?” Rachel hit her pen against her teeth three times,
then scribbled, ‘riGht Order – PAtients (?) WTF Mr. O’ on her notepad. She
touched the end of the pen to her temple. “Maybe something as simple as
alphabetical order could work just as well?”
“No. I need the long vs the short term. Who, from what you
could tell, is a long-term over a one off? We need to get the one/two visit
customers first so we can collect the funds, while slowly courting the possible
new relationships.” He pushed the intake mountain towards Rachel. “Just sift
and organize – first calls top, descending from there down. Make sense?”
The snap of Rachel’s gum echoed through the closed office.
The squeak of Oulette’s sneakers made Rachel’s blood pressure rise. The chill
outside made the Dr. thankful that he could afford a car with remote start and
seat warmers. The draft from Oulette’s exit shifted the intake mountain from
the desk to the floor. Rachel sighed angrily and picked up the only form left
on his desk. It read Nate Gowarski and had a large ‘x’ over one of the teeth in
the intake diagram. Diagnoses: his lower left molar was good as dead. Oulette’s
written suggestion was to simply remove it. In - out a couple hours and one
prescription for Oxy. She looked through
his status. Job - decent. DOB – not surprising. Health Care - new. Rachel smirked the little smirk she
spent every day behind this desk hiding, placed Nate Gowarski’s file at the top
of her list then resumed her front
desk duties for Dr. O.
One by one, she hunted for good leads. Good insurance, good
jobs, bad teeth. The image of bridges, braces, dentures and reconstruction
filling her head as if it were a tooth and her mind a cavity. There was the
lawyer that found her career more important than her health. The Single father
of four with ten cavities that recently got a hefty insurance check from his
wife’s death. The former meth head with SSDI benefits and 20 years of enamel
destruction to replace. These were the people who were going to buy her a new
car. With seat warmers, of course.
***
The goddamn phone at 7am? Nate threw his pillow straight up
into the air so it would land on his head. Once it did, he immediately
regretted the uncomfortable feeling of the action but applauded the result. The
phone rang out. Silenced. Then took a moment to beep its stupid beeps that Nate
had chosen for it to beep. He looked at the screen. VM. He looked at the
schedule printout for work he kept on his side of the bed. Today was not a work
day so he deemed this call irrelevant until he decided to get up and make it
relevant.
***
Please, please don’t
pick up. Rachel thought. She counted rings. One, two, three, four – it felt
like waiting for a tree to mature. Suddenly - VM – perfect. Rachel left a cryptic message. As she spoke, she tried to
mirror the sort of corporate speak the Dr. had instilled in her so as to uphold
her presence as a representative of the dental profession. After the final
beep, she hung the phone on its cradle, exhaled a sigh of relief and moved onto
the next patient. As she dialed the number, a tiny twinge of guilt made her
right eye twitch. It wasn’t right to let this poor man’s tooth get worse. It
wasn’t right to hope that if he just didn’t pick up the phone to schedule an
appointment that in even just a month, the tooth would become a little toxic
warrior and take down a row of teeth. The eye righted itself. Rachel snapped
her gum and dialed the last number for Mrs. Johnston.
“Hello?”
“Hi, is Mrs. Johnston in?”
“This is she. May I ask who’s calling?”
“Mrs. Johnston, this is Rachel from the front desk at Dr.
Oulette’s office. I understand you may need a few root canals. Why don’t we set
up a second consultation for you and begin healing some of that excruciating
pain you must be going through.”
***
For some stupid reason, my computer got weird and shut down and so my post didn't post last night, so today I continued what I was doing and am posting that as a combo. I'm going through tech week so my hours with work and that are looooong. Making it through though...barely.
Classy Biped
Posts
