This is what I wrote:
I’m drilling away at my three o’clock and the nurse won’t shut up. I think how much happier I would be at the end of the day if she would give it a rest.
“Can you pass the…” and I’ve forgotten the name again.
“Polisher,” calls the voice from behind the curtain.
The voice is always there when I forget my words. It feels like a safety net.
I’ve lost concentration again…
“Exit through the door, I’ll…” nudges the voice.
“I’ll be back shortly, Mr Brown, I need to get some equipment,” I say.
I walk out of the surgery and as I head up the corridor, I spot the curtain twitching in my peripheral vision.