I've Died and Gone to the Dentist
I have bad dental karma....it is just one of those things.
You'd never know it from my smile. Those 11 visible teeth put on quite a show to hide the craziness backstage. My chompers have been riddled with cavities from dentist one, no matter how much I ramp up my oral hygiene. I don't think I have ever NOT had at least one cavity with each check-up. Me and the drill go way back. It must be in the teeth genes. Growing up, my parents were partial...I mean, wore partials. I'm an implant man- it's a new world.
My toothy woes run deep, starting from dentist one mentioned above. Dr. Tate was our family dentist, with an office on the second floor of a converted Philly rowhouse. I'd sit patiently with my mom in the cramped waiting room, reading my Highlights magazine (I am definitely more Gallant than Goofus), until we were called inside. My memories at this point get a little cloudy. You see, Dr. Tate had to be pushing 70 or 80 when I was five years old. He was not trained in anesthesia techniques beyond taking a small break from drilling each time I squeezed his hand to signal pain. All I know is that I got to pick a few small rubber Flintstone erasers from a shoe box before I left, and that made everything ok to me. I took Dinos and Freds.
The absence of analgesia continued thorugh my childhood. In fact, I did not experience Novocaine until I was 18 years old. To this day, that stainless steel syringe stirs up more anxiety in me than any pair of extractors ever could.
I stumbled from dentist to dentist through my early adult years. Partially because I found it difficult to stay in one place for very long, but mainly because I seemed to attract bad dental experiences. I could never quite connect with these people spending time in my mouth. I didn't want to go back, and they couldn't have cared less. We parted ways.
Appointment mix-ups, botched root canals, an extraction I should have done myself. I have these things under my belt. I always moved on, leaving behind a sordid collection of receptionists and assistants.
In Fort Lauderdale, a dentist gave me gas anesthesia against my protests, and I swear to this day that through my haze I could feel him periodically stop working on the problem tooth, and inflict damage on the other side of my mouth. Every time I would open my eyes, no doubt with questioning in my expression, those instruments would scurry back to the tooth in need. I never went back there, and I lost an old filling a few weeks later.
OK. Miami. My first dentist here was bilingual, of course, but no one spoke English except at the receptionist's desk. The dentist was unable to numb the desired area, and had to administer that damn syringe four separate times. My face was numb up to my eye all that night, and the soreness in my jaw didn't go away for a week. Didn't go back.
Next dentist- recommended by my doctor, but didn't honor any insurance policies. Claims were submitted on my own, first with the PPO, and then to the Flexible Spending Account. The amount of overlapping paperwork and disputed charges were more painful than ten toothaches. Didn't go back.
Waited for the dental assistant to finish her lunch at the desk before she cleaned my teeth at the next place. The dentist rushed in and talked to me for about 2 minutes, expressing doubt that I could afford the implants that I requested. Then he left. So did I.
Needless to say, I walked into my latest appointment today with some level of trepidation, but walked out with a smile on my face. Have I reached my destination? Could this be the Year of the Tooth? I brought with me some of my usual energy. I need to spend the balance of my FSA within 2 weeks, or it will be forfeited. Dr. Alvarez, whom I immediately liked, sat me down to find a solution. He assured me that if I could get the time off work, that we would have no problem finding three thousand dollars worth of work to do in one day among my generous teeth. Now that sounds painful.
Wendy begs for a good year
Happy New Year!!
It was mid 80's today. I don't mind tropical weather at all, but heat takes something from the whole winter holiday experience. I like to be able to meteorologically distinguish New Year's Day from, let's say, Memorial Day.
I woke up early this morning, but I was a bit of a slug all day. I have to go back to work tomorrow after 10 days of vacation. To make today as dull and long as possible, I didn't do much of anything but some laundry and a few chores. Nothing fun to steal my last day from me. I'm a slug with a plan. This day was mine.
Fast Forward: 1 year
I'm not going to make a big deal of the fact that I took a little break from this place, and an entire year flowed right by. I'm not.
In a conversation at work recently, I realized that 2006 falls somewhere mid- range on my annometer (its internal). There were no soaring highs, unfortunately, but at least there were no swampy depths. That's a step up for me. Maybe I'll crack a smile in 2007. Stay tuned.
I am still a precarious balancing act, much to my amusement:
- A gringo in Miami who doesn't speak spanish.
- A somewhat masculine gay man.
- A convivial loner.
- An all-out animal lover working as a vet tech for medical research primates.
Oh, how I could go on, and I'm sure I will in 2007. Let's just say I have a bizarre theme thing going on. It's chronic blue eye/brown eye syndrome- I got it when I was two.
I will ring in the new year with my dog, Wendy, my sister's dog, Francis, and Angel, my beloved lovebird. I know it sounds pathetic, but it is really not a bad gig.
Great things for all in the coming year.
Repeat performance
Wow....I'm back here on the second consecutive day. That's good.
Well, I did go to the beach yesterday, and I'm glad. It is one of those things that I mean to do often, and let slip. I'm going back today.
Ah, but the cleaning, the cleaning did not come into existence yesterday. I just don't like it. I talked to my mom for a little while, read for about an hour, got some things done online (including the beginning of Christmas shopping), took ol' Wendy for a well deserved extended walk in the afternoon, and relaxed by end of day. I like getting to bed early when possible to wake up at what many would call an obscene hour. This is my favorite time.
I dogwalked at 5, and started my run while it was still dark. I decided to take a new route from my usual around the park. I had planned on running it earlier, during one of my other beginnings, but today was the day. I turned down Alton Road to 5th, crossing to the wide path along the marina, behind a row of condos. I followed it along the water past new construction , and continued along the edge of South Pointe Park. At its tip, I ran in place to watch a cruise ship gliding slowly into port, as big as a hi-rise floating on its side, with thousands of lights reflected on the dark water. I was amazed how quietly it slid by.
I ran north along the beach now, and could see the night sky now separated by a lighter blue band which darkened to a crimson glow just above the horizon to the east. There were people on the beach- I ran past a hooded man digging through trash cans, and a young couple, still dressed for their night out but carrying their shoes as they headed back toward the hotels. "Run, Forrest, run...", said the girl as I passed.
My lungs were telling me it was time to stop, but I continued until 8th street, where I had come almost full circle back to where I live. I couldnt see my watch, so I ran out to Ocean Drive where the streetlights and neon would help. I had topped yesterday by a few minutes. Instead of going home, I turned back to the water.
The sky had given way to more oranges and yellows. I could see more people along the beach, and I crossed the path of some fellow runners on my way to the ocean. Sitting in the new light of day, with hardly a sound but the rush of the ocean, I watched, and waited until the tip of the sun peeked above the water's edge about a half an hour later. As I stood up on sore legs, I promised myself to do this again. A lot.
Not just another new beginning
I've stayed away from this thing for a while, now. The truth is, I really don't like talking about myself.
Especially now. When times are tough, road is dark, and life is like, well, just a bowl- Then I REALLY don't like the subject of me.
That's the way it's been, and there are a few people who can attest to that. You'll just have to take my word for it, for now.
This entry marks a change for me. I'm going to start putting it out there. Really.
December 1 marked an anniversary for me. Six years ago, I was in another place (in so many ways). Just before the dawn of 2000, not long after turning 30, I can remember how much anticipation I felt. I
knew that my 30's were going to be the best yet. I would have never imagined that my decisions and their consequences would eventually lead me to Miami Beach. This city wasn't even on the long list. I could never have pictured myself going to work every day to a place that contradicts who I am and takes from me much more than it gives, but that is what I now do. I would have thought it impossible to exist without any friends nearby nor any social life to speak of, but this is how I live. I would have scoffed at the idea of me ever being HIV positive, but this is what I am.
So my trophy case is not exactly full right now. I keep letting my hair get too long between haircuts (always a bad sign). I live in Florida, like 5 blocks from the beach, and haven't been there in months. Im slowly creeping out of shape, as would any lethargic shut-in. Nothing out of control, mind you, but let's face it, my lifestyle and my metabolism aren't what they used to be. I have become my very own visual reminder of my mental state. As a matter of fact, my apartment resembles my mindset, too. At least I'm not fake.
So I awoke this morning with this anniversary theme still in my head, as it has been for a few days. My emotions, thoughts, and ideas have been learning how to live with me over these years. They don't quite hit me anymore, what's the use? I get lots of little nudges now, here and there. So they're nudging me this week that I have to try to make those changes again. I know what they are (clean the apt/redecorate, eat better, call your friends, workout more, get out of the apt once in awhile, get yourself a little sun, would you?, etc...), and I even know how to do them. I just have to want to do them for more than a few days at a time. You see, I have been here a few times before along this journey. Right now, the job is the key. Starting Monday, I must make an effort not to let the job take as much out of me. I have to keep some for myself, and put it toward these changes. Every day. (Delayed goal- new career.)
Boom!! All of the sudden, I was putting on my running shoes (literally). I walked Wendy at 5:30 a.m., and went for a much needed run. Perhaps it was my newfound motivation, and perhaps the newly arrived cooler winter weather, but I was able to run double my usual distance (based on data collected from previous new beginnings). I returned to my apartment a bit winded, but satisfied. I showered, then returned to this neglected blog. I am going to get a little sun today, and start cleaning up this apartment. It's a mess.
BIRTH
I woke up this morning later than I had planned. I had wanted to clean my apartment before work. This did not happen.
I turned 36 today. I turned 36 at 5:29a.m. Standing on a dark, humid morning on a bus stop at Fifth and Michigan. With a drag queen, or a transsexual, eating Pringles and drinking orange soda beside me. I had stood behind her in line at the gas station with my coffee as she bought said junk food, wondering how and where she'd gotten all of the tattoos and scars on her dark skin. Now here we were, me eyeing my watch and thinking happy birthday- she, unknowingly the guest of my little party, raising a toast with her Fanta. As the bus came to a stop in front of us, I gestured her ahead of me. In the darkness, I saw five huge white fingernails move to her chest in a grateful gesture as she flashed me a shiny golden toothed smile.
I found a seat in the back of the mostly empty bus, and opened my bag. I opened the first birthday card, from Erik, wishing me well and hoping we can talk soon. It has Snow White and the Seven Whore Dwarves on it. Erik is so good with remembering birthdays, like my mom, which brings me to the second card. It is bigger, with cursive script and sailboats, and the ocean. She has taped lucky coins inside- a 1946 quarter, a 1951 dime, a 1924 buffalo nickel, and a 1942 wheat penny, along with a check for 50 dollars. The card says, "You are on my mind, and in my heart, every single day." I cried for a second, more inside than out, before putting the cards back into my bag.
I planned on leaving work early but that didnt happen. I worked a 12 hour day, filled with stress- surgery, injured animals, two meetings, and so much to do that it never really all gets done.
Home. At last. I spoke to my mom on the way home to thank her for the card. She asked me five times to call my sister, while telling me I can do what I want and she can't control other people's lives anymore. I made her repeat that. We laughed.
I have decided to give myself this one last day before getting back to what I need to do....my 37th year has alot of cleanup involved. I watched some of Hellraiser:Deader before ordering a medium artichoke/sweet sausage from Pizza Rustica. Walked Wendy, and settled in for some TV. Happy Birthday.
I hate full circle
You know, I have come to realize something about myself that I don't want to realize. I am one of those people who sometimes make decisions for the sake of love, who repeat mistakes for the sake of that very same word, and sometimes give certain people way too many chances, again, for the sake of those four letters. People like me are stupid, and deserve what they get.
