Rough Week

Last week was rough, I tell you. I know that sounds like the beginning of a Rodney Dangerfield joke. But last week was rough. Let me tell you how.

Several years ago, my dentist told me that I had two lower molars, one on each side, that I would eventually lose. He did what he could with them (he called it “heroic dentistry”) but gave me plenty of time to prepare mentally for their loss. Sure enough, on the Saturday before Labor Day, I lost the one on the left side. Note to self: stuffing a handful of Starburst Minis in your mouth is an effective way to lose a marginal tooth. The thing is, I only lost the crown of the tooth: the roots remained embedded in my jaw.

When I called my dentist on the day after Labor Day, she referred me to an oral surgeon. He could not see me for about three weeks. That was probably a good thing. A week later, I was eating a ripe pear. There is little on the face of the Earth softer than a ripe pear, but that was enough to pull out the molar on the right side. Again, the crown was lost but the roots remained. So it was that when I finally saw the oral surgeon, I gave him twin projects to work on, if I may be allowed to finish a sentence with a preposition.

The day of the double extraction was Wednesday of the last week of September. I was ecstatic that the day had finally arrived. I was very tired of covering the protruding roots with orthodontic wax, and my tongue was sore despite the wax. He worked quickly and the pain was minimal. I was able to handle the pain with ibuprofen. That was Wednesday of “The Week That Was.”

Saturday of “The Week That Was” contained two major events: a birthday celebration for Draden, my stepson, and a Glenn Miller legacy orchestra concert. I had been looking forward to the Miller concert ever since I purchased the tickets back in July. When I lived in Georgia, I saw the Miller orchestra when they played in Covington, and they were fantastic. They used the original charts, and if I closed my eyes, I could imagine my old Miller records coming to life. Kathy had never seen the orchestra, so I decided to go the whole hog on this concert: we had tickets just a few rows from the stage, in the center. They set me back nearly $200.

The party for Draden was nice, but we were the only old folks there, so after a decent interval of time, we made our excuses and left. After lunch, we returned home to prepare for the evening’s concert. For me, preparation for the concert meant a nap.

Around 5:15 that afternoon, we began to plot our strategy for the evening: when to have dinner, when to get to the concert hall, and other things of that nature. I decided that I should check the starting time for the concert, as that would dictate our timetable for the rest of the evening.

Imagine my surprise when I discovered that the concert began at 3:00 that afternoon.

Who starts a concert at 3:00 p.m.?

Yes, I do regret throwing away nearly $200, but I regret missing that wonderful music more. Thus ended the Saturday of “The Week That Was.”

I probably should not include the next day, Sunday, in “The Week That Was.” Traditionally, Sunday is the beginning of a new week, but Sunday must be included in “The Week That Was.” The reason for this will become apparent in a moment.

Draden is a fantastic gardener, and we have profited from his generosity all summer as he shared the bounty of his garden with us. We have not had a meal for most of the summer that did not include his cucumbers, tomatoes, and Kathy’s tomatoes. Not long ago he gave us a butternut squash. On Sunday, Kathy asked me to peel it and cut it up into cubes.

I think you know where this is headed.

Three years ago I bought a set of Cutco knives from a student. They are excellent knives. Cutco will sharpen them forever, at no charge. The problem is, I cannot bear to be without them. This summer we took a cruise to Alaska, and I decided that this would be the time to have Cutco put a really good edge on all those knives. After all, we would be away from home for ten days. Cutco could do the job while we were gone from home.

I have owned a Zwilling V-Edge sharpening appliance for a year or so now, and it works like a charm. So why did I send the blades off for sharpening? I cannot sharpen serrated blades. At any rate, my blades are nearly razor-sharp. And I use the Zwilling every time I use a non-serrated blade.

The butcher knife is my favorite, and I pulled it out to peel and cube the squash. It is not an easy task, but my blade was up to the job. I must have run the blade through the Zwilling four or five times while peeling and cubing. So when I placed my left hand in the exact wrong place at the exact wrong time, the blade gave me two nice clean incisions, one on my forefinger, and one on the middle, or driving, finger.

I knew I had screwed the pooch when I felt the cuts. A quick examination led me to believe that a visit to the ER was imminent. I grabbed a couple of paper towels, squeezed the life out of the two fingers, and hopped in Kathy’s car as she ferried me the few short blocks to the ER of Mission Hospital.

It was not as bad as I had expected. The forefinger, or index finger, required four stitches, the middle finger, none. It took a mere three hours, start to finish. Kathy was wondering what television show we should watch that evening. I suggested ER.

Thus ended “The Week That Was.” It was memorable. May it never happen again.