March 28 2004, 02:54 PM Ways In Which Bodies Break

I was given reason to attend the dentist the other day, for filling work. Filling work is in the territory of large pain, so along with it comes lidocaine to soften the landscape some. It has been quite some time since I had that manner of dental work done, and the details had largely escaped me. It has been gently pointed out to me that there are reasons these details fall by the side of time to become faded and distant, and that for most people they are best left there. I will sum my observations quickly then: the smells were strange, and it was far louder than I would have imagined.

The other amusing discovery was that, with half my mouth numbed rubber from the injections, I was mostly unable to speak adverbs. Those that ended in '-ly' ended instead in a gutteral, saliva frothing moan. 'Spritelarrgh did the fliers flit / quicklarrgh did the summer come', etc. I have recovered from that.

A better sign of my seasoning happened more recent, in the grim grip of spring cleaning: after managing to move all of the boxes out of the closet some small and mean muscle in the middle of the very bottom of my back decided without ceremony that it had had quite enough thank you, and the number of upright paces it had left in it was finite and low, and I would get myself to something more soft and flat post haste or the floor it would be. It will easily cross a cynical mind that this malady came most convenient; I must assure you that having the closet Fibbered all over the living room floor is about as far from that as can be, particularly when the problem of walking has demanded to be relearnt for different shifts of muscle and weight.

It has been instructive, however, for I now know first hand why my Grandmother walks precisely in this way. I hope I manage it with a tenth her dignity.