October 6th, 2021
Well, the dentist happened today. So I'll provide for you a virtual play-by-play leading up, into, and beyond all that's necessary.
Taking Note
Today was the first day I officially recognized how badly I smell. Onions and Garbage. Mixed in a stew. Gently simmered. Perhaps even crock-potted. Hmmm… is it blatantly obvious that I do not know how to cook?
My most recent shower was October 1st, 2015. I almost said 1915. And sometimes, it almost feels like that. And did you know there are people who are still alive that were born prior to 1915? Yes, there certainly are. I believe 118 years old is currently on the agenda. A female person in Japan. Unless she decided to move to Wisconsin. People do things like that.
I'll tell you this though, although I am positive minded, I don't know if I can make it in this joint for another 70 years. As nice as the staff is, that's probably asking too much from me!
I suspect I smell so badly due to the oppressive heat. My perspiring. But maybe I'm exaggerating. Is 85 degrees too hot? 83°? What is it in here?
Dress Me Down
Okay, wearing shorts. That's not a problem. I fully believe in disguising my genitals in public for the good of all man and womankind. But then, they wanted me to wear my shirt. This button down looking thing. A shirt I used to wear to work, back in 2012. Hell, remember when 2012 was the end of the universe. Well apparently, it was for me. I must be part Mayan.
Then the staff on hand insists I cover up my nipples. Both of them (my nipples). As a means to achieve… what? Better aerodynamics? But I never wear shirts. There's no point. My wholesome desire is not to be restrained, detained, nor ordained (They once told me religion is a privilege. They also told me things about matzo ball soup that don't quite add up).
Despite sweating profusely, I allow them to dress me in my shirt. Sternum exposed. But then, out in the hallway, Nurse Tina drapes some kind of sheet over me. And then several strides later, another nurse randomly covers me with a thin plastic tarp.
I openly protest both times. But they tell me I need to be covered 1000%. Or whatever 100% X 100% happens to be.
Pick-up Lines
So Andrew picks me up (he's the one wheeling me down the hallway at a frenetic pace, dodging nurses, wheelchairs, and a series of food tray carts). And as you likely suspected, Andrew is the one from the transport company. And he's running solo.. because the transport company is really really small. For all I know, this fellow has sole proprietor status.
Despite the assorted coverings already in place, I am almost immediately joyously shivering my timbers. Several of them. So without hesitation, I decide that I want to live and breathe in the hallway. All the time. From now on. Plus, it sure as heck can't be any louder out there than it is in my room. Of this I am certain.
Andrew isn't sure I'd get away with it. Yes, I did ask him.
In order to exit the building, we had to circumnavigate the globe. The reason being? Lockdown. Yes we are in lockdown here at Nursing Home Central. And we are also locked in.
Upon our clever escaping we head straight into the humidity (post-downpour). We make a sharp immediate left. Clouds abound. All directions. All varieties. A purple-ish dark blue hue to my left. White fluffy fringes of bubbling cumuli off north. Stratocumulis streaking across the western sky. And the desert aroma is especially fresh and strong.
We keep motoring on, down a slight embankment, then a half-baked sidewalk. I feel every crack.. wobble wobble go the wheels. Shimmy shake goes my body. Unsteady. Then we traverse speed humps as we cross the desert plain. The surface is now hard-baked asphalt.
I am loaded into the sweltering van. A/C kicks on nicely. We move. It's on.
Place and Show
"You are too young to have all of your teeth pulled."
I'm not, but I have no choice. State insurance don't cover.
The procedures necessary (root canals) are too taxing anyway.
So I tell them I'm not young. But the dentist suggests I am no older than 35. Her staff concurs.
Yes, I keep mentioning my youthful appearance. It's an ego thing. I've got little else going for me, physically. Yes. My outward appearance. I just want to look normal. Somewhat healthy. And be physically functional.
Pause.
And now I must decide which procedure I want. Which I can best tolerate. I am fearful. Having everything pulled at one time seems.. excessive.
Okay. Change subject. I'm not ready to make this decision right now.
And I hate to terminate mid-story, but certain unfortunate things cropped up. So the adventure shall resume in due time.
And yes, I'd much rather write and report like this, a creative expressing in this fashion is good for me. But the pain of life must also be set free.
Balance. I hope to have.
H
Well, the dentist happened today. So I'll provide for you a virtual play-by-play leading up, into, and beyond all that's necessary.
Taking Note
Today was the first day I officially recognized how badly I smell. Onions and Garbage. Mixed in a stew. Gently simmered. Perhaps even crock-potted. Hmmm… is it blatantly obvious that I do not know how to cook?
My most recent shower was October 1st, 2015. I almost said 1915. And sometimes, it almost feels like that. And did you know there are people who are still alive that were born prior to 1915? Yes, there certainly are. I believe 118 years old is currently on the agenda. A female person in Japan. Unless she decided to move to Wisconsin. People do things like that.
I'll tell you this though, although I am positive minded, I don't know if I can make it in this joint for another 70 years. As nice as the staff is, that's probably asking too much from me!
I suspect I smell so badly due to the oppressive heat. My perspiring. But maybe I'm exaggerating. Is 85 degrees too hot? 83°? What is it in here?
Dress Me Down
Okay, wearing shorts. That's not a problem. I fully believe in disguising my genitals in public for the good of all man and womankind. But then, they wanted me to wear my shirt. This button down looking thing. A shirt I used to wear to work, back in 2012. Hell, remember when 2012 was the end of the universe. Well apparently, it was for me. I must be part Mayan.
Then the staff on hand insists I cover up my nipples. Both of them (my nipples). As a means to achieve… what? Better aerodynamics? But I never wear shirts. There's no point. My wholesome desire is not to be restrained, detained, nor ordained (They once told me religion is a privilege. They also told me things about matzo ball soup that don't quite add up).
Despite sweating profusely, I allow them to dress me in my shirt. Sternum exposed. But then, out in the hallway, Nurse Tina drapes some kind of sheet over me. And then several strides later, another nurse randomly covers me with a thin plastic tarp.
I openly protest both times. But they tell me I need to be covered 1000%. Or whatever 100% X 100% happens to be.
Pick-up Lines
So Andrew picks me up (he's the one wheeling me down the hallway at a frenetic pace, dodging nurses, wheelchairs, and a series of food tray carts). And as you likely suspected, Andrew is the one from the transport company. And he's running solo.. because the transport company is really really small. For all I know, this fellow has sole proprietor status.
Despite the assorted coverings already in place, I am almost immediately joyously shivering my timbers. Several of them. So without hesitation, I decide that I want to live and breathe in the hallway. All the time. From now on. Plus, it sure as heck can't be any louder out there than it is in my room. Of this I am certain.
Andrew isn't sure I'd get away with it. Yes, I did ask him.
In order to exit the building, we had to circumnavigate the globe. The reason being? Lockdown. Yes we are in lockdown here at Nursing Home Central. And we are also locked in.
Upon our clever escaping we head straight into the humidity (post-downpour). We make a sharp immediate left. Clouds abound. All directions. All varieties. A purple-ish dark blue hue to my left. White fluffy fringes of bubbling cumuli off north. Stratocumulis streaking across the western sky. And the desert aroma is especially fresh and strong.
We keep motoring on, down a slight embankment, then a half-baked sidewalk. I feel every crack.. wobble wobble go the wheels. Shimmy shake goes my body. Unsteady. Then we traverse speed humps as we cross the desert plain. The surface is now hard-baked asphalt.
I am loaded into the sweltering van. A/C kicks on nicely. We move. It's on.
Place and Show
"You are too young to have all of your teeth pulled."
I'm not, but I have no choice. State insurance don't cover.
The procedures necessary (root canals) are too taxing anyway.
So I tell them I'm not young. But the dentist suggests I am no older than 35. Her staff concurs.
Yes, I keep mentioning my youthful appearance. It's an ego thing. I've got little else going for me, physically. Yes. My outward appearance. I just want to look normal. Somewhat healthy. And be physically functional.
Pause.
And now I must decide which procedure I want. Which I can best tolerate. I am fearful. Having everything pulled at one time seems.. excessive.
Okay. Change subject. I'm not ready to make this decision right now.
And I hate to terminate mid-story, but certain unfortunate things cropped up. So the adventure shall resume in due time.
And yes, I'd much rather write and report like this, a creative expressing in this fashion is good for me. But the pain of life must also be set free.
Balance. I hope to have.
H
