Half-Birthday Cataclysm
Estimated reading time: 16 minutes, 10 seconds
Inopportune Events Shake the Foundation of My Life
When I walked into my home, I did my usual routine. I asked Siri to play WNYC-FM, pulled The New York Times from its blue bag, and set the table for the second half of my breakfast. Today, marking the final day of September, I couldn’t help but exclaim to the silent room, “Not a bad stroll to commemorate my half-birthday.” As I removed my Ghost Max 2 walking shoes, I detected an unfamiliar discomfort – a blister, a sensation entirely foreign to me despite my daily walks spanning over three years.
Three days before, following my return from Shabbat Services at Temple Sha’arey Shalom, I proudly proclaimed my vigor. I attributed it to my new shoes, boasting of their APMA Seal of Acceptance and their role in extending my walks. At that moment, I felt robust, full of vitality, and assured that my life’s equilibrium would persist until the end of the month. Subsequently, I settled down to savor the remainder of my breakfast.
I sat at my dining table, reading the newspaper in front of me. I reached for my favorite Chobani blueberry yogurt. As I took a spoonful and savored the sweet flavor, I was surprised to feel a crunchy texture, like I had scooped up a bit of granola. However, as I investigated further, I was taken aback to discover a small piece of a tooth on my spoon.
The discovery of the tooth fragment on my spoon was a jolt. I was taken aback, my mind struggling to comprehend what had happened. As I carefully inspected the tooth fragment, a strange sensation in my mouth drew my attention. Running my tongue over my teeth, I realized there was a gap where the tooth had once been. I went to the bathroom with the tooth fragment clutched, studying my reflection in the mirror, trying to understand the enormity of the situation. The gap in my mouth was so large, while the tooth fragment in my hands was so small.
After securing the tooth fragment in a small sandwich bag, I returned to the kitchen and finished my yogurt. However, unease lingered in the air, refusing to be ignored. I tried to distract myself by reading the newspaper, but my efforts were in vain. A sudden ringing in my right ear interrupted my reading. As I reached up to touch my ear, I realized I could only hear from my left ear. It felt as though my day was rapidly unraveling, leaving me feeling bewildered and deeply concerned.
After leaving a message for my dentist and cleaning the breakfast dishes, I focused on my resilience strategies. This was my first step in addressing the worst morning this year. I also contacted my sons, knowing their support would bolster my resilience. My resilience strategies, which I have honed over the years, include staying connected with loved ones, maintaining a positive outlook, and seeking professional help. These strategies will help me navigate this challenging period of unexpected health issues.
Today is my half-birthday! It’s usually just another day, but it held significance five years ago when I had to start dipping into my retirement savings. Turning seventy-five and a half feels different. I lost a tooth, have ringing in one ear, and, for the first time in 1249 days of walking, I have developed blisters. These unexpected challenges, for which I needed to prepare, remind me that aging is not always easy and full of surprises.
IT SUCKS!
A Tight Retainer Gives Me a Temporary Tooth
Dr. Payal Bhatnager, my friendly and professional dentist, welcomed me into her office with a warm smile and said, “Please give me a minute.” It had been a whole week since I lost my tooth, and I was eager to pick up where we had left off. As her first client of the day, I couldn’t help but reflect on the past week. Despite attending the High Holidays and being out and about every day, no one had mentioned my missing tooth. It made me wonder if people were being exceptionally kind or if they hadn’t noticed.
Dr. Bhatnager carefully positioned the retainer in my mouth as I settled into the dental chair. She emphasized the importance of the retainer over a flipper tooth and ensured it fit snugly. She gave me a mirror and allowed me to see how it changed my appearance. Despite the initial discomfort and unfamiliar sensation, I acknowledged that it looked acceptable. She then provided detailed instructions on removing and inserting the retainer, emphasizing the complexity of the process. As I rose from the chair, she cautioned me against wearing the retainer while sleeping or eating.
As I sat in the driver’s seat of my Toyota Prius, I gazed at my reflection in the rearview mirror and contemplated the daunting cost of replacing a missing tooth. After carefully reviewing my dental insurance, I discovered I had only $400 remaining. Unfortunately, it did not cover the implant Dr. Bhatnager recommended as the only solution. I double-checked the directions to my upcoming dermatologist appointment and realized I would arrive early.
I made a spur-of-the-moment decision to pull over at a nearby park for a leisurely walk, not solely for exercise but also to gather my thoughts and devise a plan to navigate this challenging situation. With unwavering determination, I reminded myself of Rabbi Uri‘s inspiring sermon about the importance of conscientious resilience.
He discussed resilience as bouncing back from adversity and learning and growing from the experience. Despite the setbacks of a missing tooth, tinnitus, and blisters, I draw strength from my unwavering support network of family and friends and the solace of reading, worship, and walking. These obstacles are no match for my resilience and determination.
After a pleasant visit with my dermatologist, I returned home and applied some cream to a small area near my eyebrow, close to the hairline, and on my right hand. Feeling hungry, I went into my bathroom, struggling to remove my retainer. Panic started to set in, and I felt tears welling up in my throat as I worried about not being able to get it out. The thought of not being able to eat or sleep was daunting. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, it loosened enough at the back for me to carefully place it in the box my dentist had provided.
After almost 48 years, I recently lost my wife, Jan Lilien. Like The Little Prince, Jan and I believed that “The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart.” This blog is a collection of my random thoughts on love, grief, life, and all things considered.
