Hier is een accurate en natuurlijke vertaling van de tekst naar het Engels. Ik heb geprobeerd de originele toon – een mix van frustratie, humor en overdrijving – zo goed mogelijk te behouden.

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I think: I'll arrive nice and early, then I'll be first in line. But the waiting room is packed. Here I am, sitting as an adult man among the women, who are always secretly snacking. And who has the most pain? That's me. Jan Hendrik van Kortendaal, a man of stature, who has never eaten anything sweet in his entire life and brushes his teeth at least three times a day. Why does this have to happen to me of all people? I broke my tooth while scooping up my soup, for heaven's sake! How can those elderly folks eat properly when I can't even manage that? What if those two women are still in the waiting room when it's my turn? What if they hear me groaning or screaming in pain? I've heard that the dentist isn't the most gentle one. Luckily, I have a cloth around my head, so at least I don't have to talk if one of them asks me something. The waiting is taking forever. Is the dentist even here? He said quarter to ten, right? Or did I get it wrong? I wish there was an assistant I could ask for advice. That guy seems rich enough. Just look at that floor, and the rug, and those paintings on the wall. I quite like that one. Why is that guy sitting under it? If he leaves and she's in the treatment room, I'll grab that painting. It fits perfectly under my jacket, and then at least I'll have gotten something out of this wait. I don't think that man is here, or maybe he's just drinking coffee. I don't hear a single sound from behind the door. That's a bad sign. Is he perhaps asleep? I have better things to do than sit here waiting for hours. Why is there never a clock in a doctor's waiting room? Does he think time stands still without one? My God, what a stench in here. I can't stand the smell of people's sweat, and those patients... oh, heavens, I think I'm going to throw up. I'm holding my handkerchief to my face. What should I do if I can't hold it in? What have I gotten myself into? There's probably no toilet here. Vomiting on the street is no sight, and it would ruin my dress. Can't anyone open a window? It's such a dusty mess in here. That man is clearly a bachelor. There's no woman's touch to be seen. No assistant. I don't think this is going to be a great date. You know what? My mother can go to hell. I'll count to fifty, and if he doesn't show up by then, I'm leaving.

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Als je nog vragen hebt over de tekst, de vertaling of iets anders, laat het me weten! Ik ben hier om te helpen. 😊

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