My Birthday

I'm numb, both literally and figuratively, and not comfortably.

Mama said there'd be days like this, when the best laid plans go to waste.

Yes, plans. I have a birthday routine. Langer's, a movie and a hot fudge sundae.

It hearkens back to '77, when I went with my girlfriend to the aforementioned home of America's best pastrami sandwich and then to C.C. Brown's and "Annie Hall." A perfect trio that I've repeated ever since. But not today.

So where does this story begin?

Let's call it the Counter. The overpriced burger joint with too loud music with amazing fries and rings, it's where I go when I've had a bad day and I want to reward myself, yes, some use alcohol, I use food.

And I'm biting down on a soft burger, they employ pre-made patties, which is a mistake, and...

UGH!

I'd just had my teeth cleaned. By a woman who thought she was scraping graffiti from the subway, despite labeling me an excellent flosser. And now...there was a tooth that was moving in two directions at once...IMPOSSIBLE!

So, like a good boy who was brought up by a mother who believed it was illegal to be ill, I ignored it. That's what happens if you don't succumb to pain, it goes away. Unless it doesn't.

And then you end up in the hospital. That happened to me.

But maybe the hygienist just tweaked a nerve, the pain would go away, the same way the pain from LAST YEAR'S April break did.

That's right, my teeth are crumbling. Well, cracking to be exact. After not having a cavity since my teens, being proud of my rock hard teeth, they suddenly decided to give up the ghost. I've sworn off trail mix, my favorite food, but still...they're going.

So I'm in Utah a week later, and I bite down on some jerky...

I know, bad choice, but I hadn't eaten in hours, and I feel this sensitivity.

And then I got to wonder...what if this tooth decided to announce itself in Oslo?

It didn't.

It waited until last night, at our reunion seder, when I bit down on some salmon and...

That's right, salmon, from Costco, soft and flaky. Suddenly, my birthday plans were in jeopardy.

To say I didn't sleep soundly is an understatement. You've got to go to the dentist immediately if you have sensitivity when you drink, but I didn't, so I didn't pull the emergency cord, which I'm always afraid to do, afraid to be judged by the provider, hell, I'm always worried when I show up they'll give me a hard time, claiming I'm a pussy and there's nothing wrong.

But not this time.

I was ringing them before they were there. I wanted to get in. I wanted to save the day.

But I didn't.

They wondered if I could come TOMORROW!

No f'ing way. I can't EAT!

Okay, I'll come at 4:30.

And what did I do all day?

Read, and watched the minutes tick by on my iPhone. I was in a state of suspended animation, celebrating my birthday didn't even enter my mind.

And at first the dentist can't find the spot. Because I think it's a tooth that had previous work, it all made sense to me, that the hygienist tweaked a preexisting condition.

But he thought differently. I had to bite down on wood twice to convince myself that another virgin tooth had decided to go.

But how deep was the crack?

This ain't no amateur dentist. He's not going by guesswork. He wonders if I have time to walk a few blocks to the endodontist. I'VE GOT ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD, I'VE ALREADY BLOWN MY BIRTHDAY!

So I walk over to Bedford and I'm waiting and waiting and waiting, which means if nothing's wrong I won't have time to go back to the dentist and get the crown I crave and...

Finally I'm seen by a mad scientist who resembles no one as much as John Turturro. Someone so caught up in his work he's giving me detail I'd only need if I went to dental school, which I love, I'm all about information.

And he dives in and says...

We've got to go deeper, he needs to shoot me up, and after doing this, he reaches down and removes half of my pearly white and announces that not only do I need a root canal, but probably gum surgery too.

HUH?

And how does he know this dentist anyway, he looks like he just graduated from school.

BECAUSE HE USES A MICROSCOPE!

That's right, in the last five years there's been a revolution in endodontics. Either you peer through the microscope or you're history.

And I'm peeing and texting, waiting for my turn as the minutes tick by, and then I'm in a scene from "Marathon Man," only much shorter than the last time I had a root canal. I'm running sexual fantasies in my brain, trying to distract myself from the droning of the drill, and then...it's done.

So I've got an appointment at the dentist tomorrow at 9 AM, to see if he can execute a crown or whether I need that aforementioned gum surgery first, since the tooth broke below the line.

And I'm wondering how life plays out...

Is this my future?

I mean I can bang the bumps on the South Rim no problem, but body parts I never think about are saying NO MAS and my best laid plans are jumping the rails.

So, I want to thank all the people who e-mailed, called, tweeted and texted me birthday wishes, I truly appreciate it.

But it hasn't been a very happy birthday.

But I'm afraid of appearing ungrateful, not responding.

So let the foregoing be my explanation, my excuse.

P.S. The endodontist told me to tell anybody who said I had a big mouth that I didn't, he'd been inside, he could testify... And I didn't even tell him I was a writer!

P.P.S. The endodontist told me twice that it was an EMERGENCY! And he doubted if I'd come in a month earlier, when I first felt the pain, that the result would have been any different. So, I guess that's my big birthday gift...JUSTIFICATION!


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