With my life in Grenoble shortly running out, more and more missed opportunities manifest themselves, or near misses. Thinking about London the other day, it came to me as a smart idea to get my eyes and teeth checked before I have to pay pounds for that.
I went to see an ophthalmologist on Wednesday, and was very disappointed afterwards. I had to pay fifty euros – normally, seeing the doctor costs 21 here. There were no space-age gadgets to measure my vision, just old-fashioned lenses and a slide projector. And the guy told me my vision hadn't really deteriorated from what my current glasses, eleven years old and still hanging on, were made to correct. I should have at least considered laser surgery – if I had done this earlier and time left for an operation.
Today, I went to the dentist, about the third time in the last ten years. Against all tradition, I arrived with a hint of unease. My teeth are all natural, and none is missing (the only part of my body to be unequivocally proud of, in a way), but lately I've felt an occasional but piercing pain while chewing hard.
I explained the symptoms after the dentist's assistant had recovered from the jolt of beauty that gazing into my mouth inevitably gave her. She looked again, checked my bite, filed a bit off the surface of a tooth or two, but claimed she could find nothing wrong. You don't even have tartar, she exclaimed before letting me go. I left relieved – and happy.
My happiness quickly morphed into apprehension and later full-blown anxiety when I checked the weather forecast for Lans-en-Vercors. Rain on and off and the mercury oscillating between five and fifteen degrees C. Normally I wouldn't care, but tomorrow I'm registered to participate in the Challenge Dauphiné, a bike race-like event of 180km that takes place around Lans, up in the Vercors massif.
The forecast makes me tremble in anticipation. I'm a wimp at heart and like to cycle in the sun. I hate the cold. But I also do what I've started, and tomorrow I'll grit my teeth and brave the elements.
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