#Affordable Dentist Gilbert

[mdental92]

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[roperdentalgroup]

Affordable Dentistry in Gilbert, AZ: Quality Care Without Breaking the Bank

Dental care is an essential part of maintaining overall health, but for many, it can also be a significant financial burden. At Roper Dental Group, we believe that everyone deserves access to high-quality dental care, regardless of their budget. As a leading provider of affordable dentistry in Gilbert, we offer a range of services designed to meet the needs of every patient, from preventive care to restorative and cosmetic treatments. Whether you have dental insurance or not, our mission is to make sure that top-tier dental care is within your reach.

If you’re looking for an affordable dentist in Gilbert, Arizona, our office offers affordable dental care in Gilbert, AZ, flexible payment plans, and personalized care that prioritizes both your oral health and your wallet.

Why Affordable Dentistry Matters

Oral health is closely linked to overall well-being. Poor dental health has been connected to conditions such as heart disease, diabetes, and respiratory infections. That’s why regular visits to the dentist are critical, not only for your teeth and gums but for your overall health as well. Unfortunately, many people delay or avoid dental care due to cost concerns, which can lead to more serious and costly issues down the line.

At Roper Dental Group, we understand that dental expenses can add up, particularly for families or individuals without insurance. That's why we’re committed to offering affordable dentistry that doesn't compromise on quality. We want to make sure that everyone has access to the dental services they need to stay healthy and confident in their smiles.

Comprehensive Affordable Dental Care

When you choose Roper Dental Group as your affordable dentist in Gilbert, Arizona, you’ll receive high-quality care tailored to your specific needs. We offer a wide range of affordable dental care services, from preventive treatments like cleanings and exams to more complex procedures like fillings, crowns, and implants. Our goal is to keep your dental health in top condition while keeping costs as manageable as possible.

Here’s a look at some of the services we offer at our affordable dental care in Gilbert, AZ:

Preventive Dentistry: Regular check-ups, cleanings, fluoride treatments, and sealants help prevent cavities and other issues before they become more serious (and expensive).

Restorative Dentistry: If you have a cavity, broken tooth, or other dental issue, our team provides fillings, crowns, bridges, and other restorative treatments to bring your smile back to health.

Cosmetic Dentistry: Want to enhance your smile? We offer affordable cosmetic treatments like teeth whitening and veneers to help you achieve the look you’ve always wanted.

Emergency Dentistry: Dental emergencies can happen at any time. We provide prompt and effective care for toothaches, broken teeth, and other urgent dental issues, all while keeping costs reasonable.

No matter what type of dental care you need, our team at Roper Dental Group is here to ensure that you get the treatment you deserve at a price you can afford.

Affordable Dental Plans and Payment Options

One of the biggest barriers to receiving dental care is the cost, particularly for those without insurance. At Roper Dental Group, we understand this challenge, and we’re committed to being an affordable dentist with payment plans that make dental care accessible to everyone. We offer flexible payment options and financing plans that allow you to spread out the cost of your treatment, so you don’t have to delay necessary care.

We also offer discount dentistry options and work with patients to find solutions that fit within their budget. Whether you’re looking for a cheap dentist or an inexpensive dentist, we ensure that the care you receive is of the highest quality. You won’t have to sacrifice quality for affordability when you choose our practice.

If you’re in need of affordable dental care without insurance, we can help. Many of our patients are looking for a budget dentist who can provide excellent care even if they don’t have coverage. We offer competitive pricing on all of our services and strive to keep our treatments as cost-effective as possible.

Discount Dental Services for Uninsured Patients

At Roper Dental Group, we recognize that not everyone has dental insurance, but that shouldn’t be a reason to neglect your dental health. We offer affordable dentist services without insurance, ensuring that you still receive the same level of care as those with insurance coverage. Our discount dental options help reduce the cost of your treatment, making it easier for you to afford the dental care you need.

Our team will work with you to understand your budget and recommend the most cost-effective treatment options. We’ll also help you explore financing plans that allow you to pay for your care over time, making it easier to manage dental expenses.

For uninsured patients looking for a budget dentist or cheap dentist who doesn’t compromise on care, Roper Dental Group is the go-to choice in Gilbert.

High-Quality Care at Affordable Prices

When you’re searching for an affordable dentist in Gilbert, Arizona, it’s natural to be concerned about the quality of care you’ll receive. At Roper Dental Group, we want to assure you that affordability doesn’t mean sacrificing the quality of your treatment. We are committed to providing top-notch dental care, whether you’re coming in for a routine cleaning or more complex procedures like dental implants or orthodontics.

Our team uses the latest dental technology and best practices to ensure that your treatment is effective, efficient, and comfortable. From digital X-rays to advanced restorative techniques, we ensure that your care is both affordable and of the highest standard.

Creating a Welcoming Environment for Every Patient

We understand that visiting the dentist can be stressful for some patients, especially if they’re worried about costs. That’s why we make it a priority to create a welcoming, comfortable environment at Roper Dental Group. Our staff is friendly, knowledgeable, and dedicated to making your experience as positive as possible.

Whether you’re coming to see us for affordable dental care in Gilbert, AZ or seeking a discount dental solution for an emergency, you can expect personalized care and attention from the moment you walk through our doors.

Conclusion

When it comes to finding affordable dentistry in Gilbert, Roper Dental Group stands out for its commitment to quality, affordability, and personalized care. We believe that everyone should have access to the dental services they need, whether they have insurance or not. Our flexible payment plans, discount dental options, and dedication to patient care make us the go-to affordable dentist in Gilbert, Arizona.

Don’t let financial concerns prevent you from getting the dental care you need. Contact Roper Dental Group today to learn more about our services, payment options, and how we can help you achieve a healthy smile without breaking the bank.

[vistadoradadental]

Affordable Laser Dentistry Services in Gilbert: The Ultimate Guide

At our dental clinic in Gilbert, we understand that dental health is a crucial aspect of overall health. Our team of experienced dentists is committed to providing affordable laser dentistry services to our patients. In this guide, we will explore the benefits of laser dentistry, the different types of laser procedures, and the cost of laser dentistry services in Gilbert.

Benefits of Laser Dentistry

Laser dentistry is a minimally invasive technique that uses laser light to perform various dental procedures. One of the main benefits of laser dentistry is that it minimizes the need for traditional dental tools such as drills and scalpels. This means that laser dentistry is less invasive, less painful, and has a shorter recovery time compared to traditional dentistry.

Laser dentistry is also more precise, allowing for more targeted treatment. It also reduces the risk of infection since the laser sterilizes the treatment area. Additionally, laser dentistry procedures typically require less anesthesia than traditional dentistry, making it a great option for patients with dental anxiety.

Types of Laser Dentistry Procedures

There are several types of laser dentistry procedures available. The most common ones include:

Laser Cavity Detection - This procedure uses laser light to detect cavities in the teeth. The laser light can detect cavities that are not yet visible to the naked eye, allowing for early detection and treatment.

Laser Gum Contouring - This procedure reshapes the gum line to improve the appearance of the smile. It can also help reduce the risk of gum disease by removing excess gum tissue that can harbor harmful bacteria.

Laser Teeth Whitening - This procedure uses laser light to activate a whitening gel that is applied to the teeth. It is a quick and effective way to brighten the smile.

Laser Frenectomy - This procedure is used to correct a condition known as tongue-tie or lip-tie. It involves using laser light to remove the frenulum, a small piece of tissue that connects the tongue or lip to the mouth.

Cost of Laser Dentistry Services in Gilbert

The cost of laser dentistry services in Gilbert varies depending on the type of procedure and the complexity of the case. However, laser dentistry procedures are generally more affordable than traditional dentistry procedures since they require less anesthesia and have a shorter recovery time.

At our dental clinic in Gilbert, we offer affordable laser dentistry services that are tailored to each patient's individual needs. We accept most insurance plans, and we also offer financing options to make laser dentistry services more accessible to our patients.

Conclusion

Laser dentistry is an innovative technique that offers numerous benefits over traditional dentistry. It is less invasive, less painful, and has a shorter recovery time. It is also more precise and reduces the risk of infection. There are several types of laser dentistry procedures available, including cavity detection, gum contouring, teeth whitening, and frenectomy. 

The cost of laser dentistry services in Gilbert varies depending on the type of procedure and the complexity of the case, but they are generally more affordable than traditional dentistry procedures. At our dental clinic in Gilbert, we offer affordable laser dentistry services that are tailored to each patient's individual needs.

[pvpds-blog]

Arizona Dental Plans - How To Save Big On Dental Care In Arizona

Good Arizona dental plans have now become much easier to get than in the past. Not that they weren't "easy" to get before mind you, but the quality of dental plans in Arizona has gotten much better and much more affordable, especially in areas of the Phoenix metropolitan area,including Mesa, Chandler, Gilbert, Scottsdale, Tempe, Glendale, Sun City, Sun City West, etc., along with other major Arizona cities like Tucson, Flagstaff, Yuma and more.

You can pretty much take your pick between traditional dental insurance and dental discount plans for routine maintenance and you'll pay a comparable amount for each. However, if you are in need of a dentist right away, I highly recommend that you look at the dental discount plans instead. The reason that I say this is because dental insurance plans, although they are "decent" for routine dental care like cleanings, x-rays, flouride treatments, etc, they do NOT cover pre-existing conditions without a long waiting period. This waiting period is usually at least 12 months and in some cases even more. Also, many companies will still not cover you 100% for a pre-existing condition EVEN AFTER the waiting period is over.

Dental discount plans are not insurance. They are simply a discounted service for dental care in exchange for paying for your visit in full at the time of the appointment. You pay an annual fee as low as $80 for an individual or as low as $150 for a family plan, after which you'll be able to see a dentist within one to three days. There are no exclusions, pre-existing conditions are fine and you'll receive huge discounts of anywhere between 10% and 60% on major dental care like dentures, root canals, bridge work, orthodontics and much more. Some, not all, but some discount dental plans even provide discounts on cosmetic dentistry.

If you live in Arizona and are in need of a good dental plan, I highly recommend that you take a good look at dental discount plans first, especially if you are in pain right now.

[dentistgilbertarizonablog]

Are you looking for Cosmetic Dentist Gilbert, AZ ?

Our cosmetic dentists in Gilbert, AZ offer a wide range of cosmetic dental services to help you achieve a brighter, healthier smile. Island Dental is committed to providing a high-quality and affordable experience for our clients. Our entire dental staff at Island Dental are committed to providing the most advanced, comprehensive care available to address your needs and smile today.

[riggsfamilydentalgilbert]

Dentist in Gilbert, AZ - Riggs Family Dental

At our practice, our team is committed to providing the most comfortable, innovative, and effective oral care services that patients can afford for their treatment process. Our dentists in Gilbert are qualified & experienced in offering quality care!

[tarysande]

Hi tarysande! I remember a little while ago you mentioned you were applying to creative writing MFA programs. Just wondering how that went? I'm thinking of applying to some myself, and curious about the process.

I ended up only applying to the one. I was wait-listed but ended up not getting in. And you know, that’s totally fine. Right around the time I found out I’d been wait-listed, I ended up reading Elizabeth Gilbert’s Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear. There was a section called Schooling, where she talks some real talk about going into debt to get an MFA and ... you know what, I’m just going to C&P that part. Because I don’t think people talk enough about how debt can destroy creativity. I have been there before and I do not recommend it. If I had been really committed to teaching at the university level—I do think an MFA would’ve proven useful. But to be honest, I think I’d much rather work one-on-one with people, or run small, personal workshops--and I don’t need extra letters after my name for that.

Would I have done the program if I’d gotten in? Debt and all? I don’t know. Maybe. It was pretty prestigious (even being wait-listed was ... a big deal). But I know this section of this book basically grabbed me by the shoulders and said, “THINK HARD ABOUT THIS.” And thinking hard is always worth doing.

Schooling, from Elizabeth Gilbert’s Big Magic.

I never got an advanced degree in writing. I don’t have an advanced degree in anything, actually. I graduated from NYU with a bachelor’s degree in political science (because you have to major in something) and I still feel lucky to have received what I consider to have been an excellent, old-fashioned, broad-minded liberal arts education. While I always knew that I wanted to be a writer, and while I took a few writing classes as an undergrad, I chose not to seek out a master’s of fine arts in creative writing once I was finished at NYU. I was suspicious of the idea that the best place for me to find my voice would be in a room filled with fifteen other young writers trying to find their voices. Also, I wasn’t exactly sure what an advanced degree in creative writing would afford me. Going to an arts school is not like going to dentistry school, for instance, where you can be pretty certain of finding a job in your chosen field once your studies are over. And while I do think it’s important for dentists to be officially credentialed by the state (and airline pilots, and lawyers, and manicurists, for that matter), I am not convinced that we need officially credentialed novelists. History seems to agree with me on this point. Twelve North American writers have won the Nobel Prize in Literature since 1901: Not one of them had an MFA. Four of them never even got past high school. These days, there are plenty of staggeringly expensive schools where you can go to study the arts. Some of them are fabulous; some of them, not so much. If you want to take that path, go for it—but know that it’s an exchange, and make certain that this exchange truly benefits you. What the schools get from the exchange is clear: your money. What the students get out of the exchange depends on their devotion to learning, the seriousness of the program, and the quality of the teachers. To be sure, you can learn discipline in these programs, and style, and perhaps even courage. You may also meet your tribe at art school—those peers who will provide valuable professional connections and support for your ongoing career. You might even be lucky enough to find the mentor of your dreams, in the form of a particularly sensitive and engaged teacher. But I worry that what students of the arts are often seeking in higher education is nothing more than proof of their own legitimacy—proof that they are for real as creative people, because their degree says so. On one hand, I completely understand this need for validation; it’s an insecure pursuit, to attempt to create. But if you’re working on your craft every day on your own, with steady discipline and love, then you are already for real as a creator, and you don’t need to pay anybody to affirm that for you. If you’ve already gone out and earned yourself an advanced degree in some creative field or another, no worries! If you’re lucky, it made your art better, and at the very least I’m sure it did you no harm. Take whatever lessons you learned at school and use them to improve your craft. Or if you’re getting a degree in the arts right now, and you can honestly and easily afford to do so, that’s also fine. If your school gave you a free ride, better still. You’re fortunate to be there, so use that good fortune to your advantage. Work hard, make the most of your opportunities, and grow, grow, grow. This can be a beautiful time of focused study and creative expansion. But if you’re considering some sort of advanced schooling in the arts and you’re not rolling in cash, I’m telling you—you can live without it. You can certainly live without the debt, because debt will always be the abattoir of creative dreams. One of the best painters I know is a teacher at one of the world’s most esteemed art schools—but my friend himself does not have an advanced degree. He is a master, yes, but he learned his mastery on his own. He became a great painter because he worked devilishly hard for years to become a great painter. Now he teaches others, at a level that he himself was never taught. Which kind of makes you question the necessity of the whole system. But students flock from all over the world to study at this school, and many of these students (the ones who are not from wealthy families, or who did not get a full ride of scholarships from the university) come out of that program with tens of thousands of dollars of debt. My friend cares immensely about his students, and so watching them fall so deeply into debt (while, paradoxically, they strive to become more like him) makes this good man feel sick in the heart, and it makes me feel sick in the heart, too. When I asked my friend why they do it—why these students mortgage their futures so deeply for a few years of creative study—he said, “Well, the truth is, they don’t always think it through. Most artists are impulsive people who don’t plan very far ahead. Artists, by nature, are gamblers. Gambling is a dangerous habit. But whenever you make art, you’re always gambling. You’re rolling the dice on the slim odds that your investment of time, energy, and resources now might pay off later in a big way—that somebody might buy your work, and that you might become successful. Many of my students are gambling that their expensive education will be worth it in the long run.” I get this. I’ve always been creatively impulsive, too. It comes with the territory of curiosity and passion. I take leaps and gambles with my work all the time—or at least I try to. You must be willing to take risks if you want to live a creative existence. But if you’re going to gamble, know that you are gambling. Never roll the dice without being aware that you are holding a pair of dice in your hands. And make certain that you can actually cover your bets (both emotionally and financially). My fear is that many people pay through the nose for advanced schooling in the arts without realizing that they’re actually gambling, because—on the surface—it can look like they’re making a sound investment in their future. After all, isn’t school where people go to learn a profession—and isn’t a profession a responsible and respectable thing to acquire? But the arts are not a profession, in the manner of regular professions. There is no job security in creativity, and there never will be. Going into massive debt in order to become a creator, then, can make a stress and a burden out of something that should only ever have been a joy and a release. And after having invested so much in their education, artists who don’t immediately find professional success (which is most artists) can feel like failures. Their sense of having failed can interfere with their creative self-confidence—and maybe even stop them from creating at all. Then they’re in the terrible position of having to deal not only with a sense of shame and failure, but also with steep monthly bills that will forever remind them of their shame and failure.

Please understand that I am not against higher education by any means; I am merely against crippling indebtedness—particularly for those who wish to live a creative life. And recently (at least here in America) the concept of higher education has become virtually synonymous with crippling indebtedness. Nobody needs debt less than an artist. So try not to fall into that trap. And if you have already fallen into that trap, try to claw your way out of it by any means necessary, as soon as you can. Free yourself so that you can live and create more freely, as you were designed by nature to do.

Be careful with yourself, is what I’m saying.

Be careful about safeguarding your future—but also about safeguarding your sanity.

[fic-al]

The Last Temptation of Tom Hereward

December 1962

Tom stood at the bus stop on the main road adjoining the street where the Turners now lived. Tom was pleased with his morning's work. Over a cup of Typhoo tea and a lemon puff, Edward Patrick Turner's christening had been meticulously arranged. Most of the morning, however, had been taken up by a fully-committed Angela giving the young clergyman an extensive tour of her new house; much to Shelagh Turner's obvious discomfort. There was some embarrassment on both sides as Angela refused to leave out an inch of her new kingdom. He just hoped Timothy Turner would never become privy to the knowledge that the curate had once been in his bedroom.

Tom tightened his scratchy Woolworth's scarf around his neck and pulled his overcoat collar up. Mrs Turner had been right to keep the little girl indoors, even though it had resulted in a hint of petulance from the child. The back garden may be Angela Turner's favourite thing about her new house, but she was definitely better off inside the centrally-heated, detached new build.

Suddenly, a streak of blue whizzed past his eyes and then pulled up sharply. An all too familiar voice shrieked back at him.

"Hello Tom! Where are you off to?"

It apparently wasn't as cold as he and Mrs Turner had thought, looking at Trixie Franklin waving to him from the passenger seat of an open-topped sports car.

"The London, Trixie. Mr. Samuelson." Tom explained.

"Oh, that dear man," Trixie's exuberance dampened momentarily. "Why don't you try and squeeze in, we will drop you off. Won't we Sweetie?" Trixie smiled that smile at the driver.

Christopher Dockerill and the curate exchanged a glance and a more reserved smile. Tom assured Trixie that the No.52 was due any minute. He guessed the dentist was on his dinner break and didn't want to share any of that precious time with anyone but his lunch date.

Trixie gave Tom an apologetic smile as she waved goodbye and soon became a blue blur in the distance. Tom smiled. If Trixie had married him, she would be stood at this bus stop with him or maybe one like it in Newcastle. Instead, she was speeding through Poplar in a sports car. She looked amazing; she looked happy, she looked the part.

Tom was still musing over the differing paths his old love and he had taken as he mounted the stairs of the dirty, red London bus. A familiar voice shook him from his reverie,

"How do, Reverend. Where are you off to then?" Tom looked up to see Fred's cheery face beaming from the seat behind the stairwell.

Tom told Fred about his proposed visit. Fred closed the newspaper he had been reading and sighed. "Poor old Sammy eh! Too bad, known him all my life, since I was nipper. Grand bloke."

Tom felt he may have given too much away about his concerns for his parishioner and changed the subject.

"Catching up with the news, Fred?"

"Na, not me it's all gloom 'n' doom. If you ask me this country is going to the dogs. I just get it to see how many the 'ammers got beat by and to have a look at the gee-gees." Fred wafted the well-thumbed copy of last night's Evening Standard at Tom.

His voice lowered. "Between you 'n' me Reverend, there is a good thing in the 2:35 at Aintree today. Never been beat, class against muck. Handicapper has let one fly, if you know what I mean?" Tom hadn't the faintest idea what Fred meant, it was like he was speaking another language.

"I will just say this young man, with the help of this little beauty, my Violet can expect something special in her Christmas stocking. If you catch my drift?"

If Tom could have pushed the next sentence that left his lips back into his mouth, he would have. "Fred, I am sure Mrs. Buckle would be pleased with any gift you can afford. Safe in the knowledge you aren't risking your hard-earned wages on gambling."

"You weren't so high and mighty about a little flutter on your stag do, was you Reverend. Weren't so proud when it got your girl that big fancy carousel?"

Tom was horrified he had not meant to sound so preachy and Fred was a friend, a good friend. He had been given a stag night to remember, well some of it he remembered. It had all been because of this kind and thoughtful man.

"So what you got the missus for Christmas then, bit hard to top your own personal fairground, ain't it? Set of dodgems, is it?"

Fred stood up and pulled the cord to ring the bell for his stop. He saw the clergy's crestfallen face and wondered if he had been a bit harsh? He liked Mr. Hereward a lot.

"Never you mind vicar about presents, newly-weds can make their own funfair at Christmas." He winked at the curate, trying to ease the tension between the two.

Tom's visit to the London turned out better than he expected. Mr. Samuelson looked so much better than he had on Tom's last visit to his home. The old man confessed to the curate that he was hoping he would be in hospital over Christmas; surrounded by wonderful caring nurses, who reminded him of his late wife Mabel and a grumpy matron who reminded him of his old Sergeant Major.

His renewed optimism regarding Mr. Samuelson didn't bolster the curate's spirits for long. He couldn't forget his earlier conversation with Fred. What was he going to get Barbara for Christmas? The wedding and simple honeymoon had practically cleaned Tom out. How was he going to top a carousel? When he couldn't even afford a sherbet lolly. He remembered Trixie waving to him from her new beau's status symbol. He knew Barbara would never expect or even want to go skiing for Christmas or be driven around in a sports car. The nearest they got to that was when she let him ride her bike and she had a croggy on the handlebars.

He thought about the scene of domestic bliss he had witnessed this morning. Barbara's and his children wouldn't have their own bedrooms. They wouldn't have a garden to play in. They would play out with all the other kids on the streets of Poplar. The clergy's children would play with the docker's kids. Would they survive? Would they be bullied? He thought of Timothy Turner; he had grown up on the East End streets, no one picked on Tim, he was accepted. Playing violin and piano when the other kids were playing British Bulldogs. Going to Grammar School while his mates got jobs on the docks or in factories. You couldn't get a more well balanced, happy teenager than Tim Turner, could you? Tom gave himself a shake. She had married a clergyman not a doctor or a dentist and if anyone knew what that meant, Barbara did. Yes, she deserved everything and more that her friends had, but she had chosen differently.

As Tom headed across Whitechapel Road, he noticed a new addition to the line of shops near the station. Tom had read somewhere that since bookmaking had been made legal last May, that over 10,000 Betting Shops had arrived in High Streets across the UK. That did seem rather a lot. In his line of work he had seen many families ripped apart by gambling, just as he had by drinking. Yet he still enjoyed a pint of mild, when he had the chance and felt it in no way threatened his and Barbara's happiness or comfort. Everything in moderation his father had always said.

The same thing applied when he looked at Fred. Violet knew all about Fred's little flutters, of course she did and she didn't seem to mind. Then there was Dougie Roberts, renowned for not been able to pass up a bet. What was that expression about gambling and two little boys and a wall? Well, that applied to Dougie. One look at his wife Ruby, told you she wanted for nothing. His two girls were always immaculately turned out and as for their boy, well it was widely acknowledged that nothing was too good for little Douglas.

The building was small, and the windows blacked out making it look secretive, menacing almost. He was inside before he even realized what he was about to do. The smell of stale cigarette smoke hit him first. As his eyes adjusted to the artificial light, he glanced at his fellow occupants in the tiny room. No one looked at Tom. The curate made sure his scarf was wrapped tightly around his throat and the collar of his overcoat drawn together to hide his dog collar.

"Alright Darling, next race 2:35 at Aintree."

Tom turned and blinked at the young woman behind the small counter. "Ain't seen you in here before, I'd 'ave remembered. First time is it?" She winked at him.

The bleached blonde with the beehive flashed him a mischievous smile. Tom inwardly chastised himself for putting himself in this position, but before he could make a break for it. The cheeky blonde was beside him and had thrust a small piece of paper in his hand, along with a ridiculously small pencil. She was explaining that all the information he would need on runners and riders was pinned to the wall in front of him.

"Just put, the race time, horses name and how much you want to bet on there, sweetheart. I will do the rest." She flounced back to the counter, leaving a scent of cheap perfume and polo mints behind her.

Tom knew he had to leave now. If only at this point the chirpy assistant hadn't turned up the volume on the solitary black and white television set, following a request from a punter. It spouted;

We will just take a look at the runners for our next race the 2:35 at Aintree. The commentator's voice startled Tom. No.1 is a big outsider, first time at Aintree for Glorious Gilbert..."

Tom heard no more, his heart missed a beat. Maybe this wasn't a mistake after all. Tom rushed to the pinned up papers, found what he needed. He scribbled on the tiny slip and presented it to his curious new ally behind the desk. Searching in his trouser pocket, he hesitated only for a second, as he took out a precious ten bob note and handed it over to its willing recipient. It took Tom a full minute to realize what he had done. He moved to a place where he could get a good view of the flickering set. He longed to unbutton his coat, but instead he pulled the collar tighter.

The small room was overheated, a fierce looking electric heater in the corner was whirring and spluttering. They were going down; the commentator informed him, in a few minutes it would all be over. No one would ever know how stupid he had been.

"Reverend! Well this is a right turn up for the books, twice in one day!" Tom froze as a large hand patted him on the back. The girl behind the counter started coughing uncontrollably after swallowing her Polo mint whole.

Rather weakly and somewhat defensively, Tom retorted. "I could ask you the same question, Fred."

Fred didn't bat an eyelid. "I often does a bit of business on Whitechapel Market, just thought I'd pop in here for a warm."

"Friend of yours Fred?" the assistant had regained her composure.

"Alright, Thelma love?" tactfully leaving the enquiry unanswered.

Tom was grateful, realizing Fred must have just popped in for a lot of warms recently. Fred led Tom away from listening ears and asked him why the last person he was expecting to meet in a Whitechapel Betting Shop was stood next to him. Tom could have said he was looking for a parishioner or putting on a bet for old Mr. Samuelson. Tom knew he was a fool, but he also knew he wasn't a liar. Tom handed his friend the slip he had been clutching so tightly. Fred just asked him why?

"For Barbara," was all he could reply. Fred pulled off his woolly hat, scratched his head and looked bewildered at the curate. "I was pulling your leg, winding you up, you silly sod."

Fred felt bereft he had maybe had some part in the choices Tom had made that afternoon. He looked so uncomfortable, so out of place. "Gambling is a mug's game. I know I am a mug."

Tom protested, "What about Walthamstow, what about Galilee Lad...?" Fred interrupted, "Dogs is dogs. A good dog can beat another good dog any day of the week. Now your thoroughbred, that's a different animal. You've got to know your oats. So to speak."

Tom felt sick and hot and stupid. Fred looked at Tom's slip and shook his head. "66/1, it's a maiden!" Fred couldn't hide his exasperation.

All Tom could offer was that he thought it was a stallion. Fred snorted. "Yes, It is a bloke. A maiden just means it's never won a race. You know, like a maiden's never..."

"Yes, I get the picture Fred, thank you." The simple question, “Why?” Came again from Fred's face of pity. 

"For Barbara.” Came back the reply.

Fred explained he had popped in for another warm earlier and had put on an accumulative bet called a Round Robin. The favourite in this race was Mr. Minty and if he came in for Fred, it was happy days. Tom wondered if a Round Robin was a special type of wager just for the festive season, but didn't ask.

Thelma turned the volume on the television up another notch. As the race announcer declared, And they're off!  

"That's yours in the red and white stripes." she nodded at Tom. The curate looked bewildered at the black and white picture. Fred grinned, winked at him and shook his head.

Even with Tom's untrained eye, he could see Mr Minty looked like a different class from the rest of the field.

"Jumps like a stag!" Fred beamed with pride.

"You mean there are fences!" Tom cried.

"It's winter Mr. Hereward, the National Hunt season."

Not for the first time, Tom wondered why no-one was speaking English today. The six horses seemed to take each fence in their stride. Mr Minty led from the off and literally flew over every obstacle. Emerald Eyes fell at the 6th. Tom offered up a silent prayer for the horse and jockey. Remarkably, both bounced back up on to their feet. Emerald Eyes, now rider-less, soon caught up to her competitors. Welsh Wonder refused to jump at the 7th and was pulled up. Bobby's Girl unseated her jockey at the 9th. Gorgeous Gilbert was last of the 3 remaining runners, it was no threat to Mr Minty, but seemed quite happy to plod on behind and appeared to relish the jumps.

"Your nag has stopped to eat some grass." Fred mocked. Tom realized he no longer cared. As long as horse and jockey got home safety, that was all that mattered now.

"One more jump and we are home and dry, go on my son!" a very excited Fred Buckle yelled. Mr Minty took off for the final time and so did his jockey. He took off from his saddle and somersaulted over Mr Minty's head. The jockey landed unceremoniously on his behind on the turf. Mr Minty didn't miss a step and galloped home triumphantly.

Fred swore. Apologised to Tom and then cursed again. Tom and Fred's gaze returned to the screen, while the cameras had been focused on the fate of the unfortunate favourite. Tom's horse had made up ground on the second. Blonde Bombshell was coming to the last now, as the unexpected favourite. She jumped the fence cleanly but stumbled on landing. Her jockey pulling hard to maintain his balance. Gorgeous Gilbert jumped beautifully and was now just a length behind the tiring leader.

Fred suddenly became animated. He grabbed Tom's sleeve. "You're in with a chance here Reverend."

Tom was perspiring, feeling sick and dizzy due to the heat, the confinement of the small shop and the overpowering cigarette stench; compounded by his confusion at his own actions. Fred was now jumping up and down shaking Tom's arm. "Come on you beauty, come on for Mrs H!" He screamed.

The enthusiasm of his friend did not go unnoticed by Tom. Fred had shaken off the disappointment of his own loss and was right behind Tom's fortunes. The broadcaster continued his quick-fire commentary.

It's a long run in here at Aintree, Blonde Bombshell is tiring, she is losing ground. Gorgeous Gilbert is gaining on her. Here he comes. There is just a neck in it now. They coming up to the line. He has done it! The outsider has pulled off a shock today here at Aintree, Glorious Gilbert the winner at 66/1.

Fred was now kissing a very dazed Tom. The feel of Fred's stubble on his cheek jolted Tom back to reality. Fred pushed Tom towards a grinning Thelma.

"Where you taking me tonight then, Handsome? Now you've cleaned me out."

Fred gave Thelma a stern stare, and the assistant took out a wad of notes and began counting out Tom's winnings. "What do you fancy in the next then?"

Tom shaking with the money in his hand replied, "I don't know. I will have a look."

A large hand grabbed Tom's arm and before he knew it, Tom was finally outside. His lungs shuddered with relief at the cold fresh air. Fred had him by both shoulders and was staring Tom right in the eyes. Tom felt faint with the sudden environmental change and the smell of tea, jellied eels, and sweat.

"Now you listen to me, Tom! You got lucky, you were given a break. Betting is a mug's game. I know cos I am a mug see. Apart from the day I stepped up at Nonnatus House and the day I married my girls' mother and, of course my Vi."

Tom was getting his bearings, and Fred had his full attention. "I know how you feel mate. Of course I does, your missus earns more than you do. You can't get her the things you'd like to. You don't want her feeling second best. You don't want people thinking you're not a real man because your wife works, or it looks like you can't provide for her. Well, none of that matters. They'll soon change their minds when they want a baby delivering or christening when they want marrying or burying. They'll soon remember then how important you and that young lass are to Poplar. When they're in trouble, when they have need of you. They will remember and so should you!"

Fred finally let go of Tom and the smaller man swayed slightly. "Now keep that stash, safe in your pocket and go and find a nice present for Mrs H, that's what all this is about. Ain't it? He smiled at Tom and added, "Let that be the end of it."

"The end of what, Fred?"

The last question didn't come from Tom's soft brogue but from a higher pitched voice, a feminine voice and one that held a hint of anxiety. Fred knew he couldn't answer Mrs Hereward's question and made his swift goodbyes and was lost in Whitechapel Market in a heartbeat.

Tom stared at his wife in disbelief, a feeling mirrored by Barbara. After accompanying a patient to the London for admission, she had not expected as she crossed the Whitechapel Road, to see her husband and the Nonnatus handyman coming out of a betting shop.

Barbara repeated her question, this time to Tom. Tom knew he was a fool, but he was not a liar. His confession poured from his heart. How he resented not being able to give Barbara the lifestyle she deserved. How she should have the sort of things her friends were quickly becoming accustomed too. It broke his heart to see Trixie swanning off skiing, when he hadn't been able to give Barbara a proper honeymoon. He wanted their children to have a room of their own and a garden with a swing and a slide. He hadn't even been able to buy his love an engagement ring. He hadn't been able to bear the thought of their first Christmas as man and wife exchanging some worthless trumpery from the market.

Tears welled up in Barbara's eyes, she held both his hands in hers. "Do you know me so little, that you think I would envy a skiing trip or a ride in a sports car? Do you think I give a damn about the latest fashions or hair styles? For one moment do you think I would swap our cosy little flat in the centre of our bustling, vibrant world for a big house on a faceless new estate somewhere, where we know no-one. Where we would have to cycle or get the bus every time we wanted to see our friends. Tom I would live with you in a bus shelter and would not care if we never stepped out of Poplar again, as long as I was with you."

Tom was struggling to hold back the tears now. Barbara had not finished.

"You are so incredibly dear to me, Tom. I feel I am the luckiest girl in the world. On Sunday morning, I feel this when I hear you preach with understanding and compassion, not judgment and prejudice. I feel blessed beyond belief, when I watch you hold a dying man's hand, comfort a widow, help those in need find a way or just make a child feel important. I burst with pride every time someone calls me Mrs or Nurse Hereward, because that means that out of the whole world the best man I have ever met, chose me."

Tom pulled her close into a soft salty tear stained kiss. He didn't care if anyone noticed his dog collar now. He promised to never be so foolish again.

"Just tell me Tom, how much did you lose?"

"I didn't lose anything Barbara, I won. I won over 30 quid!" Barbara blinked and then gasped in disbelief.

She wouldn't tell Tom just yet, but the pensioners Christmas dinner and the children's party were definitely going to be remembered this year. Their first year as the curate and his wife. As Mr and Mrs Hereward.

"I guess I beat the odds when I married you, Barbara," Tom continued.

"Never mind about that Mr Hereward, I have just finished my shift and if you come with me. It's a dead cert, that you are on a sure thing."

Barbara had pulled Tom onto the No.52 bus before he realized what she meant. Not for the first time today he realized he had backed a winner.

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Nonnatun Christmas Card Exchange:Christmas 1962 Tom & Barbara

This is a story I wrote for @jlyspio for the Nonnatun Christmas Card Exchange. She has kindly given me permission to share it with you. As they are not too many ‘Herbert’ stories, I thought why not.

This is my first and maybe my last. Many thanks to Rachel for very generously finding time for me aboard the busy Polar Express. Big shout out to @eatapinkwafer who has patiently endured 4 of these Christmas offerings in the last few days and been incredibly supportive.

Tom stood at the bus stop on the main road adjoining the street where the Turners now lived. Tom was pleased with his morning’s work. Over a cup of Typhoo tea and a lemon puff, Edward Patrick Turner’s christening had been meticulously arranged.

Most of the morning, however, had been taken up by an over-enthusiastic Angela giving the young clergyman an extensive tour of ‘her’ new house - much to Shelagh Turner’s obvious discomfort. There was some embarrassment on both sides as Angela refused to leave out an inch of her new kingdom. He just hoped Timothy Turner would never become privy to the knowledge that the curate had once been in his bedroom.

Tom tightened his scarf around his neck and pulled his over coat collar up. Mrs. Turner had been right to keep the little girl indoors, even it did result in a bit of petulance from the child. The garden may be Angela Turner’s favourite thing about her new house, but she was definitely better off inside the new centrally-heated, detached new build.

Suddenly, a streak of blue whizzed past his eyes and then pulled up sharply. An all too familiar voice shrieked back at him.

“Hello Tom! Where are you off too?” It apparently wasn’t as cold as he and Mrs. Turner had thought, looking at Trixie Franklin waving to him from the passenger seat of an open topped sports car.

“The London, Trixie. Mr. Samuelson.” Tom explained.

“Oh, that dear man.” Trixie’s exuberance dampened momentarily.” Why don’t you try and squeeze in, we will drop you off. Won’t we Sweetie?”

Christopher Dockerill and the curate exchanged a glance and a smile. Tom assured Trixie, that the No.52 was due any minute. He knew the dentist was on his lunch break and didn’t want to share any of that time with anyone but Trixie.

Trixie gave Tom an apologetic smile as she waved goodbye and soon became a blue blur in the distance.

Tom smiled. If Trixie had married him she would be stood at this bus stop with him or maybe one like it in Newcastle. Instead she was speeding through Poplar in a sports car. She looked good, she looked happy, she looked the part.

Tom was still musing over the differing paths his old love and he had taken as he mounted the stairs of the red London bus. A familiar voice shook him from his reverie.

“How do, Reverend. Where are you off too then?”

Tom looked up to see Fred’s cheery face beaming from the seat behind the stairwell. Tom told Fred about his proposed visit. Fred closed the newspaper he had been reading and sighed.

“Poor old Sammy eh! Too bad, known him all my life, since I was nipper. Grand bloke.”

Tom felt he may have given too much away about his concerns for his parishioner and changed the subject.

“Catching up with the news, Fred?”

“Na, not me it’s all gloom ‘n’ doom. I just get it to see how many the ‘ammers got beat by and to have a look at the gee-gees.” Fred wafted the well-thumbed copy of last night’s Evening Standard at Tom. His voice lowered.

“Between you ‘n’ me Reverend, there is a good thing in the 2:35 at Aintree today. Never been beat, class against muck. Handicapper has let one fly, if you know what I mean?”

Tom hadn’t the faintest idea what Fred meant, it was like he was speaking another language.

“I will just say this young man, with the help of this little beauty, my Violet can expect something special in her Christmas stocking. If you catch my drift?”

If Tom could have pushed the next sentence that left his lips back into his mouth, he would have.

“Fred, I am sure Mrs. Buckle would be pleased with any gift you can afford. Safe in the knowledge you aren’t risking your hard earned wages on gambling.”

“You weren’t so high and mighty about a little flutter on your stag do, was you Reverend. Weren’t so proud when it got your girl that big fancy carousel?”

Tom was horrified he had not meant to sound so preachy and Fred was a friend, a good friend. He had been given a stag night to remember, well some of it he remembered. It had all been because of this kind and thoughtful man.

“So what you got the missus for Christmas then, bit hard to top your own personal fairground, ain’t it? Set of dodgems, is it?”

Fred stood up and pulled the cord to ring the bell for his stop. He saw the clergy’s crestfallen face and wondered if he had been a bit harsh? He liked Mr. Hereward a lot.

“Never you mind vicar about presents, newly-weds can make their own funfair at Christmas.” He winked at the curate, trying to ease the tension between the two.

Tom’s visit to the London turned out better than he expected. Mr. Samuelson looked so much better than he had on Tom’s last visit to his home. The old man confessed to the curate that he was hoping he would be in hospital over Christmas, surrounded by wonderful caring nurses, who reminded him of his late wife Mabel and a grumpy matron, who reminded him of his old sergeant major.

His renewed optimism regarding Mr. Samuelson didn’t bolster the curate’s spirits for long. He couldn’t forget his earlier conversation with Fred. What was he going to get Barbara for Christmas? The wedding and simple honeymoon had practically cleaned Tom out. How was he going to top a carousel, when he couldn’t even afford a sherbet lolly?

He remembered Trixie waving to him from her new beau’s status symbol. He knew Barbara would never expect or even want to go skiing for Christmas or be driven around in a sports car. The nearest they got to that was when she let him ride her bike and she had a croggy on the handlebars.

He thought about the scene of domestic bliss he had witnessed this morning.His and Barbara’s children wouldn’t have their own bedrooms. They wouldn’t have a garden to play in. They would play out with all the other kids on the streets of Poplar. The clergy’s kids would play with the docker’s kids. Would they survive? Would they be bullied?

He thought of Timothy Turner, he grew up on the East End streets, no one picked on Tim, he was accepted. Playing violin and piano when the other kids were playing British Bulldogs. Going to Grammar School while his mates got jobs on the docks or in factories. You couldn’t get a more well balanced happy teenager than Tim Turner, could you?

Tom gave himself a shake. She had married a clergyman not a doctor or a dentist and if anyone knew what that meant, Barbara did. Yes, she deserved everything and more that her friends had, but she had chosen differently.

As Tom headed across Whitechapel Road he noticed a new addition to the line of shops near the station. Tom had read somewhere that since bookmaking had been made legal last May, that over 10,000 Betting Shops had arrived in High Streets across the UK. That did seem rather a lot.

In his line of work he had seen many families ripped apart by gambling, just as he had by drinking. Yet he still enjoyed a pint of mild, when he had the chance and felt it no way threatened his and Barbara’s happiness or comfort. Everything in moderation his father always said.

The same thing applied when he looked at Fred. Violet knew all about Fred’s little flutters, of course she did and she didn’t seem to mind. Then there was Dougie Roberts, renowned for not been able to pass up a bet. What was that expression about 2 boys and a wall? Well, that applied to Dougie. One look at his wife Ruby told you she wanted for nothing. His 2 girls were always immaculately turned out and as for their boy, it was widely acknowledged that nothing was too good for little Douglas.

The building was small and the windows blacked out making it look secretive, menacing almost.

He was inside before he even realized what he was about to do. The smell of stale cigarette smoke hit him first. As his eyes adjusted to the artificial light, he glanced at his fellow occupants in the tiny room. No one looked at Tom. The curate made sure his scarf was wrapped tightly around his throat and the collar of his overcoat drawn together to hide his dog collar.

“Alright Darling, next race 2:35 at Aintree.” Tom turned and blinked at the young woman behind the small counter. “Ain’t seen you in here before, I’d ‘ave remembered. First time is it?” She winked at him.

The bleached blonde with the beehive flashed him a mischievous smile. Tom inwardly chastised himself for putting himself in this position, but before he could make a break for it. The cheeky blonde was beside him and had thrust a small piece of paper in his hand, along with a ridiculously small pencil. She was explaining that all the information he would need on runners and riders was pinned to the wall in front of him.

“Just put, the race time, horses name and how much you want to bet on there, sweetheart. I will do the rest.” She flounced back to the counter leaving a scent of cheap perfume and polo mints behind her.

Tom knew he had to leave now. If only at this point the chirpy assistant hadn’t turned up the volume on the solitary black and white television set, following a request from a punter.

We will just take a look at the runners for our next race the 2:35 at Aintree.” The commentator’s voice startled Tom. “No.1 is a big outsider, first time at Aintree for Glorious Gilbert...”

Tom heard no more, his heart missed a beat. Maybe this wasn’t a mistake after all.

Tom rushed to the pinned up papers, found what he needed. He scribbled on the tiny slip and presented it to his curious new ally behind the desk. Searching in his trouser pocket he hesitated only for a second as he took out a precious ten bob note and handed it over to its willing recipient.

It took Tom a full minute to realize what he had done. He moved to a place where he could get a good view of the flickering set. He longed to unbutton his coat, but instead he pulled the collar tighter. The small room was overheated, a fierce looking electric heater in the corner was whirring and spluttering.

They were going down, in a few minutes it would all be over. No one would ever know how stupid he had been.

“Reverend! Well this is a right turn up for the books, twice in one day!”

Tom froze as a large hand patted him on the back. The girl behind the counter started coughing uncontrollably after swallowing her Polo mint whole.

Rather weakly and somewhat defensively Tom retorted. “I could ask you the same question, Fred.”

Fred didn’t bat an eyelid. “I often does a bit of business on Whitechapel Market, just thought I’d pop in here for a warm.”

“Friend of yours Fred?” The assistant had regained her composure.

“Alright, Thelma love?” Tactfully leaving the enquiry unanswered. Tom was grateful realizing Fred must have just popped in for a lot of ‘warms’ recently.

Fred led Tom away from listening ears and asked him why the last person he was expecting to meet in a Whitechapel Betting Shop was stood next to him. Tom could have said he was looking for a parishioner or putting on a bet for old Mr. Samuelson. Tom knew he was a fool, but he also knew he wasn’t a liar.

Tom handed his friend the slip he had been clutching so tightly. Fred just asked him why?

“For Barbara,” was all he could reply.

Fred pulled off his woolly hat, scratched his head and looked bewildered at the curate.

“I was pulling your leg, winding you up, you silly sod.” Fred felt bereft he had maybe had some part in the choices Tom had made that afternoon. He looked so uncomfortable, so out of place. “Gambling is a mug's game. I know I am a mug.”

Tom protested, “What about Walthamstow, what about Galilee Lad...”

Fred interrupted, “Dogs is dogs. A good dog can beat another good dog any day of the week. Now your thoroughbred, that’s a different animal. You’ve got to know your oats. So to speak.”

Tom felt sick and hot and stupid. Fred looked at Tom’s slip and shook his head.

“66/1, it’s a maiden!” Fred couldn’t hide his exasperation. All Tom could offer was that he thought it was a stallion.

Fred snorted. “Yes, It is a bloke. A maiden just means it’s never won a race. You know, like a maiden's never...”

“Yes, I get the picture Fred, thank you.”

The simple question why came again from Fred’s face of pity.

“For Barbara.” Came back the reply.

Fred explained he had popped in for another warm earlier and had put on an accumulative bet called a Round Robin. The favourite in this race was Mr. Minty and if he came in for Fred, it was happy days. Tom wondered if a Round Robin was a special type of wager just for the festive season, but didn’t ask.

Thelma turned the volume on the television up another notch. As the race announcer declared, “And they’re off!”

“That’s yours in the red and white stripes.” She nodded at Tom. The curate looked bewildered at the black and white picture. Fred grinned, winked at him and shook his head.

Even with Tom’s untrained eye, he could see Mr. Minty looked like a different class from the rest of the field. “ Jumps like a stag!” Fred beamed with pride.

“You mean there are fences!” Tom cried.

“It’s winter Mr. Hereward, National Hunt season.”

Not for the first time Tom wondered why no-one was speaking English today. The 6 horses seemed to take each fence in their stride. Mr. Minty led from the off and literally flew over every obstacle.

Emerald Eyes fell at the 6th. Tom offered up a silent prayer for the horse and jockey. Remarkably both bounced back to their feet. Emerald Eyes, now rider-less, soon caught up to his competitors.

Welsh Wonder refused to jump at the 7th and was pulled up. Bobby’s Girl unseated her jockey at the 9th. Gorgeous Gilbert was last of the 3 remaining runners, it was no threat to Mr. Minty, but seemed quite happy to plod on behind and appeared to relish the jumps.

“Your nag stopped to eat some grass.” Fred mocked.

Tom realized he no longer cared. As long as horse and jockey got home safety, that was all that mattered now.

“One more jump and we are home and dry, go on my son!” A very excited Fred Buckle yelled.

Mr. Minty took off for the final time and so did his jockey. He took off from his saddle and somersaulted over Mr. Minty’s head. The jockey landed unceremoniously on his behind on the turf. Mr. Minty didn’t miss a step and galloped home triumphantly.

Fred swore. Apologised to Tom and then cursed again. Tom and Fred’s gaze returned to the screen, while the cameras had been focused on the fate of the unfortunate favourite. Tom’s horse had made up ground on the second.

Blonde Bombshell was coming to the last now as the unexpected favourite. She jumped the fence cleanly, but stumbled on landing. Her jockey pulling hard to maintain his balance.

Gorgeous Gilbert jumped beautifully and was now just a length behind the tiring leader. Fred suddenly became animated, he grabbed Tom’s sleeve,

“You’re in with a chance here Reverend.”

Tom was perspiring, feeling sick and dizzy due to the heat, the confinement of the small shop and the overpowering cigarette stench compounded by his confusion at his own actions. Fred was now jumping up and down shaking Tom’s arm. “Come on you beauty, come on for Mrs H!“ He screamed.

The enthusiasm of his friend did not go unnoticed by Tom, Fred had shaken off the disappointment of his own loss and was right behind Tom’s fortunes. The broadcaster continued his quick-fire commentary.

“It’s a long run in here at Aintree, Blonde Bombshell is tiring, she is losing ground. Gorgeous Gilbert is gaining on her. Here he comes. There is just a neck in it now. They coming up to the line. He has done it! The outsider has pulled off a shock today here at Aintree, Glorious Gilbert the winner at 66/1”

Fred was now kissing a very dazed Tom. The feel of Fred’s stubble on his cheek jolted Tom back to reality. Fred pushed Tom towards a grinning Thelma.

“Where you taking me tonight then, Handsome? Now you’ve cleaned me out.”

Fred gave Thelma a stern stare and the assistant took out a wad of notes and began counting out Tom’s winnings. “What do you fancy in the next then?”

Tom shaking with the money in his hand replied, “I don’t know. I will have a look.”

A large hand grabbed Tom’s arm and before he knew it, Tom was finally outside. His lungs shuddered with relief at the cold fresh air. Fred had him by both shoulders and was staring Tom right in the eyes. Tom felt faint with the sudden environmental change and the smell of tea, jellied eels, and sweat.

“Now you listen to me Tom! You got lucky, you were given a break. Betting is a mug's game, I know cos I am a mug see. Apart from the day I stepped up at Nonnatus House and the day I married my girls mother and of course my Vi.” Tom was getting his bearings and Fred had his full attention.

“I know how you feel mate. Of course I does, your missus earns more than you do. You can’t get her the things you’d like too. You don’t want her feeling second best. You don’t want people thinking you’re not a real man because your wife works, or it looks like you can’t provide for her. Well none of that matters. They’ll soon change their minds, when they want a baby delivering or christening, when they want marrying or burying. They’ll soon remember then, how important you and that young lass are to Poplar. When they’re in trouble, when they have need of you. They will remember and so should you!”

Fred finally let go of Tom and the smaller man swayed slightly.

“Now keep that stash, safe in your pocket and go and find a nice present for Mrs H, that’s what all this is about. Ain’t it? He smiled at Tom and added, “Let that be the end of it.”

“The end of what, Fred?” The last question didn’t come from Toms soft brogue but from a higher pitched voice, a feminine voice and one that held a hint of anxiety.

Fred knew he couldn’t answer Mrs. Hereward’s question and made his swift goodbyes and was lost in Whitechapel Market in a heartbeat.

Tom stared at his wife in disbelief, a feeling mirrored by Barbara. After accompanying a patient to the London for admission, she had not expected as she crossed the Whitechapel Road to see her husband and the Nonnatus handyman coming out of a betting shop.

Barbara repeated her question, this time to Tom.

Tom knew he was a fool, but he also knew he was not a liar. His confession poured from his heart. How he resented not being able to give Barbara the lifestyle she deserved. How she should have the sort of things her friends were quickly becoming accustomed too. It broke his heart to see Trixie swanning off skiing, when he hadn’t been able to give Barbara a proper honeymoon. He wanted their children to have a room of their own and a garden with a swing and a slide. He hadn’t even been able to buy his love an engagement ring. He hadn’t been able to bear the thought of their first Christmas as man and wife exchanging some worthless trumpery from the market.

Tears welled up in Barbara’s eyes, she held both his hands in hers.

“Do you know me so little, that you think I would envy a skiing trip or a ride in a sports car? Do you think I give a damn, about the latest fashions or hair styles? For one moment do you think I would swap our cosy little flat in the centre of our bustling, vibrant world for a big house on a faceless new estate somewhere, where we know no-one. Where we would have to cycle or get the bus every time we wanted to see our friends. Tom I would live with you in a bus shelter and would not care if we never stepped out of Poplar again, as long as I am with you.”

Tom was struggling to hold back the tears now. Barbara had not finished.

“You are so incredibly dear to me, Tom. I feel I am the luckiest girl in the world.Every Sunday morning, I feel this when I hear you preach with understanding and compassion, not judgment and prejudice. I feel blessed beyond belief, when I watch you hold a dying man's hand, comfort a widow, help those in need find a way or just make a child feel important. I burst with pride every time someone calls me Mrs. or Nurse Hereward, because that means that out of the whole world the best man I have ever met, chose me.”

Tom pulled her close into a soft salty tear stained kiss. He didn’t care if anyone noticed his dog collar now. He promised to never be so foolish again.

“Just tell me Tom, how much did you lose?”

“I didn’t lose anything Barbara, I won. I won over 30 quid!”

Barbara blinked and then gasped in disbelief. She wouldn’t tell Tom just yet, but the pensioners Christmas dinner and the children’s party were definitely going to be remembered this year. Their first year as the curate and his wife. As Mr. and Mrs. Hereward.

“I guess I beat the odds when I married you, Barbara,” Tom continued.

“Never mind about that Mr. Hereward, I have just finished my shift and if you come with me. It’s a dead cert, that you are on a sure thing.”

Barbara had pulled Tom onto the No.52 bus before he realized what she meant. Not for the first time today he realized he had backed a winner.

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[survivingsusac]

Adulting Update

Vitamins

We’re going to start today off on a weird note. I go to a Curves gym because fitness is important. I may be not the most mobile person anymore (thanks a TON Susac) but still, health is important. At the gym a person tells me about this vitamin supplement that has changed her health and has improved her quality of life. She’s like, let’s set up a call and you can learn all about it and get some and be healthier. I found out the name of it and do some research (that’s Adulting 101) and find out the stuff is absurdly expensive and less bioavailable (read: your body can’t use but 18% of the nutrients in the pills) than the liquid vitamin that I have access to that are half the cost (which are 98% bioavailable). I let the lady know that while I appreciate her sentiment, I will let the professionals and specialists in Susac Syndrome be the ones to guide me through whether nutrient supplements will heal my autoimmune disorder. Spoiler: they won’t. I will take my liquid vitamins, though. Be healthy, y’all.

Welcome home, Link!

On another note, I am still totally hyped about the awesomeness of my local bike shop.

The guys never fail to be friendly and welcoming when I walk in. Ken greets me by name today and says you’re here to pick up Link, yes? Why yes, Ken, yes I am. You’re going to let me pay you guys today right? Recall, they have (1) replaced my saddle, (2) patched my flat rear tire, (3) ordered me two new tire tubes, (4) installed the correct tire tube, (5) replaced my saddle post. All at no charge so far. And today Ken let me pay him today, a whopping…drum roll please… $37.55.

These guys are like legit superstars.

Baclofen

We’re changing subject to include stuff about badass doctor Egan who can no longer be my doctor because he got a new job (remember him? He hasn’t been brought up in a minute).

So my UCD neuro immunologist who is supposed to replace him (PYSCH, because no one could ever adequately do that) began me on a new drug (Rx), Baclofen. It’s a CNS suppressant that was intended to help my wacky gait (it’s a spastic gait). Well, long story short, it did not. It made me super sleepy which I don’t have time for in my life, and a fall risk. It was the complete opposite of what she lead me to believe it would accomplish for me.

I send her literally three messages over a month requesting responses to my concerns. No response, nothing. So I do some research and safely and successfully wean myself off the Rx. I finally get an appointment with her to follow up and she tells me that based on the increase in symptoms, I am experiencing a relapse.

She asks me what I did last time I had a relapse. I let her know that I’ve never had one before, that my immune systems’ response to this Rx that it’s never encountered before seems to have sent me into my very first one. She sets me up with a five day pulse of this infusion called Solumedrol, AKA methylprednisolone. Today is my last day of that. Tomorrow she has me taking oral prednisone for 18 days.

My thoughts are, “This had better work.”

Now, circle back to Egan.

My mom/rock and I go out to dinner with him Monday night. We’re just chilling eating cheese burgers and of course, he can’t take off his doctor hat. He's watching me walk through the restaurant, asking me questions about my alleged relapse, and doctoring me between my complaints to him about his decline in Pokemon Go activity. He’s seriously been slacking lately.

Anyway, apparently, relapses can’t be confirmed without quantitative data. Relying only on reports of increases in symptoms is qualitative. NOW we’re talking; speak science to me.

MRI

So about a month ago, this new UCD neuro immunologist who Rxed me Baclofen had ordered a series of MRIs. Brain, C-spine, and T-spine. Here’s our qualitative data.

I never acted on those things because UCD charges things like facility fees, technical fees, and procedural fees that aren’t covered by the copay that I pay already at each appointment. Heads up, they also don’t dislose the estimate of the cost of these things unless you specifically ask for it. When you do, everyone points fingers and transfers your calls for days. By the time you finish doing their jobs for them you find out that it will be something like $2k for your care. And why does the hospital charge for things like facility fees (rent for the room the appointment takes place in), technical fees (that’s the computer the doctor charts your notes on during the appointment), and professional fees (that’s the other radiologist or doctor who reads the imagery or test the doctor orders)? Because hospitals are a business at heart and need money to survive. Patient's money.

Your girl can’t afford thousands of dollars for the hospital to just make money off of patients. Go charge someone with expendable cash, not someone trying to live off of $400 a month.

But now I’m searching for the least expensive way to get these MRIs done for this quantitative data for bad ass Egan. ‘Cuz we all know that he’s going to ask me about the images once they’re done. I couldn’t get rid of him now, probably not even if I wanted to. Eventually, thanks mostly to my GP at Sutter, I found a place that will save me $500 so I’ll only have $1.5K to pay. I’ll be paying the bill until the end of the year. But eh, such is life.

Speaking of money

I signed up for my own dental insurance coverage. So far in my life I’ve been covered by my mom because I was a minor and then by my husband because I was married to the useless pile of flesh and asked for coverage for myself and our daughter. She was five by the time he got around to it. Useless. Pile. Of. Flesh. But now I am not a minor and I am cutting free from the useless pile of flesh! So I get to adult and get my own dental insurance! So I want to keep my dentist because I love him tons (medically speaking) and Lee’s been my dentist since I was like 10. First I talk to his office about the type of insurance he accepts. Then I call the insurance company and talk to Gilbert (no, not Gilbert Blithe) and we talk about options and financial commitment and the types of procedures covered. Within the day I have chosen the best coverage for myself! I call my dentist and let Kathy know that I have been adulting and I am pumped to announce that as of October 1 I will have my own new dental insurance! She gives me a metaphorical high five. Again, she’s known me since I was 10.

The Moral of the Story

Adulting is hard work.

Beware pyramid schemes that want you to commit to costs and promises without bonafide science. Do your research. It may take a minute but knowing what people are trying to get you into, whether because they are honestly trying to help or because they are unaware of what they are presenting you with, is crucial to making wise decisions. Picking up Link now that he is up to 100% after the battle he has unexpectedly given me was relieving, especially given how awesome the bike shop has been. That bike shop was a happy accident but I am SO GRATEFUL that it has worked out so well!

Don’t let up on doctors when they stop making contact with you. I’m looking at you, UCD. Hold them accountable for the oath they took when they began school.

Also, keep those hospitals in check. Be thorough about your bill, regardless of if it’s itemized when you see it. When doctors order tests or imagery ask questions and get things in writing, when possible. Make yourself familiar with your health insurance policy and its limitations and expectations. Do your due diligence when you’re after answers. Take notes, record that names of the people you speak to. And keep track of phone numbers you’re given.

Guys, if it sounds like a full time job, that’s because it IS. I can’t tell you how often I’ve had to bow out of tutoring sessions for school for five minutes, take calls while in the car and someone else is driving. If you know you’ve got adulting drama coming I suggest you keep a pencil and paper with you for notes at all times. I think the only things I haven’t interrupted are classes and doctor appointments. It’s a commitment, for sure.

And please, have your own back when it comes to insurance. Check out your options, compare them to your needs, and make wise choices. This is something I’m going to have to do next week when I explore health insurance opportunities. As per usual, I’ll keep you updated!

Surviving Susac,

Aurora