14 March 206

Fillings

It was glorious looking down from the balcony. The men who use the feeding program at the church across the street came at the appointed hour, mostly Hispanic, though not all of them.

They seemed to glory in the warmth, strolling back toward the garden apartments, lighting up cigarettes and laughing at the wonder of life being born again.

The breeze made the branches dance, and the door to the outside was wide open when I got back from the trip to the lobby to get the mail. I had not left it that way, and when I tried to swing it closed, I saw that the wind had thrown it open so violently that the bottom was split vertically along a seam created by the screws that attach the lower hinge.

I sighed. Now I understood why there was no pneumatic keeper on the top of the door. I could see the holes where one had once been attached to keep the door from swinging open too rapidly, but it must have disintegrated in some ancient storm.

I might be able to fix the thing with some through-bolts. I probably could force the wood back together with some white glue and a plate, though a new door was probably the right answer for the long haul.

It is discouraging that just when most of the projects have been done something else comes up. It is enough to make you think that everything is in a constant state of disintegration, slumping back into the soil, naking all our striving for naught.

Worse, the project was going to mean a trip to the Home Depot. I hate that, almost as much as a trip to the dentist, and I already had one of those in this otherwise lovely day.

The Iranian partner was the last one to see me after the cleaning- she is the junior one, recently having joined the office. Her seal of approval was required for me to get out of the chair and escape the chair.

She clucked disapprovingly, which is something they apparently teach at dental school. The old amalgam fillings that I have carried since I was a kid have got to go, she said. “Fourteen and Fifteen,” she said to the hygienist, who was making notes. “We will take those out first. But a deep cleaning on Twelve will be required before we can address replacement of the ones on the upper right.”

I squirmed in the chair. A lifetime of haphazard military dental care was catching up with me. Not having a regular Dentist meant that you only sought one out when something hurt.

Now that I have a real one, a team of them, in fact, they seem to want me all the time even when things seem fine.

At the reception desk on the way out, I was outfitted with additional appointments. It occurred to me that the summer refurbishment to my mouth might be intended to keep a steady hourly rate at the office. I did not like the thought.

But I have a lot of those, and have mostly become accustomed to them. There is no alternative with this many years left in the Administration. In the meantime, if the worst happens, I am going to go out with good Fourteen and Fifteens.

Copyright 2005 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com

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