Yesterday's Walk to the Dentist

Yesterday's walk to the dentist, all bundled up. Winter's light blue sky, a low sun, more glare than heat.

A reflection of myself in the window of an empty business, careful over a lumpy patch of boulevard. So this is how a penguin does it?

I made it to sixty without a single non-wisdom tooth extraction of my adult teeth, but today it will be the top right rear molar, next to where one of those wisdom teeth was.

My dentist, who I started seeing in 1972, says the vacant area will require some building up before he can even think of suggesting an implant (the answer is already no). In addition to a pellet of bone-growth-promoting collagen, he ordered a side of bone chips, all of it to be dropped down the hole made vacant by my extracted tooth, which now sits in a repurposed Protec case and, though it has a pretty porcelain crown and was my first root canal (of seven), I will not be sharing its picture on websit.

An anti-biotic was prescribed, as was codeine because I always find a way of asking for it. In place of brushing in that area, chlorhexidine gluconate, given to me by the receptionist, to be used until the stitches come out next week. Sweet to see that the label is handwritten. Even sweeter to see that the word swallow is spelled "swollow" (rhymes with hollow).