Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Dentists and Amulets


My dentist saw a small chip on my front tooth and offered to fix it without charge.  I can’t explain his generosity in this matter, but of course I was happy to accept.  I asked him if the chip resulted from my osteoporosis.  "No," he said, and then paused, trying to think of a polite way to tell me that the tooth was extremely old and what did I expect.  “You’ve used the tooth since the age of 10,” he said, which put it nicely.  He warned me that his repair might only last a few years.  I replied that I hoped I’d live that long, which made him laugh uneasily.  “You will,” he said.  I hope he’s right but how can he possibly know?

My response – that I wasn’t at all sure I’d live another few years – contrasts with my reaction to a story that my former dentist in Jerusalem told me about 10 years ago.  We were discussing the material to be used for a repair on one of my teeth. “You know,“ I said, “it doesn’t have to last a long time.”  This prompted him to tell me about his 92-year-old grandfather, who was worried about outliving his money.  He asked my dentist’s father to review his finances.  “Pop,” the son said, after looking over his father’s records, “your money will last another 15 years without your making any changes in your lifestyle.”  The old man replied, “yes, but then what?”

I was seventy then.  It didn’t occur to me that in only ten years I would measure the time remaining to me in demi-tasse spoons, rather than in the cups used by my dentist’s grandfather, who thought that he might live beyond 107.  If I thought about the matter at all, death seemed indefinitely far away, even though I had told the dentist that the repair didn't have to last a long time.

Now, at the age of 80, I told my current dentist, “let’s see which lasts longer, the repair or me.”  I now view the years ahead as likely to be few, which is why I’m trying to do as much as I can while I’m still vertical.  Having returned from Juneau a few weeks ago, we’re now in Jerusalem for a two-week stay.  My grandson and I are going to Boston at the end of August, and my wife and I plan to fly to Mexico in September.   And now I'm planning the celebration for our 50th anniversary, even though the anniversary doesn’t come until May and the celebration won’t be held before the end of July.  If you think I regard these plans as virtual amulets, magical protections from harm through next summer, you’re right.  How can anything happen to us if we have reservations?  That’s ridiculous, I know, but how can it hurt?



2010-2012 Anchises-An Old Man's Journal All Rights Reserved

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