Traumatic Coronations

I’m not talking monarchies, tiaras, crown jewels, and such. No, I’m referring to dental crowns for broken teeth – four of them. I spent four hours in the dentist’s chair yesterday getting four temporary crowns for both lateral incisors and their corresponding canines. The central incisors and the occluding mandibular teeth for all six uppers got ground and polished to address related chips that had rendered them rough.

I quipped a couple of months ago that Maia’s abdominal surgery cost as much as a cruise around the Galapagos. When we finally left the Veterinary Hospital, the remaining balance would have easily covered roundtrip airfare to the port of departure in Ecuador. My dental adventure will easily cover a similar trip for my dentist. Sigh.

I haven’t posted anything since Tuesday because I had a vasovagal mishap which caused me to faint while standing in front of my bathroom sink. Fortunately, my fall was broken when my face made impact with the granite countertop. I came to rest on my right knee and elbow on our ceramic tile floor. Other fortuitous features of this mishap are that neither the granite countertop nor the floor were damaged, and I did not break any facial bones or limb joints. Lucky, that. On the other hand, my face is quite bruised; I look like the other guy in a pugilistic tale.

I’ve had perhaps four such episodes in the past 45 years. The first occurred at the end of my first day in anatomy lab after an hour of inhaling formaldehyde fumes emanating from our cadavers’ tanks. I felt nauseated, left the lab for the men’s restroom, became diaphoretic and lightheaded, and sat down in a stall with my head between my legs. Once the feeling passed, I splashed cold water on my face and regained my bearings.

The remaining three episodes including this one were associated with my efforts to respond to nausea in order to delay or suppress a bout of emesis. Except for this Tuesday’s episode, I managed to sit down and avoid fainting on the other occasions. All I can say is that, in many ways related to bodily functions, getting old sucks.

Now that my dental injuries have been addressed, I can eat again with a minimum of discomfort. I still have a little traumatic epistaxis, and I hope I can avoid another trip to the ENT for persistent bleeding.

On an amusing note, the dental hygienist commented that she had seen an ad for a wearable head and neck protector that would deploy an inflatable shield if one fell – something akin to an automobile airbag. I don’t think that I’m quite ready for that bit of haut couture.