As a blogger over the years, I’ve generally avoided sharing the nuances of bodily state or machinations of marital war and peace. (If there are regular readers out there, even on a Friday, you’ll have already nailed me as a liar on both counts. There are even several pieces about the spousal unit in Slow Road and What We Hold in Our Hands. So sue me.)
I don’t think, however, with the exception of the selfie from the dentist chair in the nitrous oxide clown mask (which I would have linked here but cannot locate), I’ve not talked teeth very much. Thankfully, the choppers have held up pretty well to the daily grind. This morning however, we have an Oral Code Red Alert.
And as you are certainly aware, such emergencies unfailingly happen while out of town on a weekend over a holiday while expected for an important meeting. Or some combination of two or more of these ingredients. Today’s crisis qualifies, so in my own mind at least, this is a big deal:
My upper incisor (that would the front toof to you lay-persons) calved the entire back side like a melting Arctic glacier. The face of the tooth remains, fragile as gramma’s crystal gravy bowl, and with one vertical edge gone black, just enough to suggest a hint of Jethro Bodine.
The sleep-robbing part of this just-before-bedtime breakdown in the status quo of my personal body is the inconvenience and “unexpected” expense here in the early months of fixed income. I can’t say I didn’t see the threat on the horizon. Let me quote myself from less than a week ago, where I failed to acknowledge the looming threat of Dental Disaster:
“But the unexpected, inevitable death of major appliances, of vehicles or for home repairs—all live inside a black hole. And of course we face the increasing probability of medical expenses over and above what the best combination of SS plus Supplemental will cover. We’re quite healthy at the moment. But…
These leaks, the Great Flushing, can happen as quickly as the Titanic hitting an iceberg—and so it makes those of us in the Jacuzzi of the Golden Years necessarily cautious about what would once have been significant but not sleep-depriving decisions.”
Yes, I could just have the stump of the tooth pulled and be content to lose the ability to whistle ever again. At the same time, I would gain status as featured personality in town with some of the tourists of a Friday night who may have come to see stereotypical Appalachian edentulous half-wits.
But no. I’ll pay the thousands out of retirement-shallow pockets (and in the absence of any dental version of Medicare) over the course of who knows how many 4 hour visits to Blacksburg. This is what it will cost to return to cosmetic integrity–an imagined personal state of rugged good looks whose ship has sailed if indeed it ever docked. At this stage of life, self-image and ego whimper from under the front porch and a body learns humility, with daily lessons and homework.
So folks, the Titanic has hit the iceberg–on a day the dentist office is closed, while we are six hours from home, herding cats. I will be meeting numerous organizational associates at an important meeting. Without smiling. Or whistling. And all I want for Christmas is…well, I don’t generally blog about such personal matters.
We want pleasure and good things, all the time. We fear pain. Only gains, no losses.
We used to have someone come to the Wild Gardeners get-togethers, someone I had known for 20 years. She died two years ago. It struck me at one of the get-togethers that she used to come and was part of the group and now she wasn’t here. The group had changed slightly but didn’t seem to notice. The only constant is change.
Ouch!!!!!!!!
So sorry, Fred!
You made me laugh and I hope you gave yourself at least a wry grin. I suggest you compromise with vanity: go the cheap route with a partial denture. Keep most of those dollars in your pocket instead of a high-falutin’ dentist’s.
I have a Monday appointment w the denti$t and will hope it is a patch rather than a prosthesis of some kind. Dear me. Our dental policy used to be crappy but no policy at all this side of 65 is far crappier.
Good luck, Fred, I can’t wait to hear the rest of the story.
I know exactly how you feel. Four months ago the very same thing happened to me. Same tooth even, by the sound of it. Two months later, and three visits to Blacksburg, my new bridge looks even better than the old tooth. But my checkbook is also thousands of dollars lighter.
Maybe we should compare smiles next time we see one another!
I know just where you are coming from, Fred …. but we all try to keep up some sort of facade or Potemkin Village don’t we???
Although not a daily visitor, I have enjoyed your writing since 2004 or so. Don’t stop!!
Veneers are as good as they say…Hope you are not in pain! Until I sang it for Roger, I didn’t know that some people don’t know the words to the song of the day:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u6ncU97xPhg
Hope all goes well on Monday, Fred, and we will once again be blessed with your smiling face.
Had to look up ‘edentulous’! Should have just guessed! Retired 4 years here, and just ended up with surprise heart surgery – yes, retirement throws you a curve sometimes. Luckily I have the Canadian health care system!
The panorex that you have posted is not yours … ??