Miss me? I know I have been remiss, and did not post last week, but I do have a very good reason. I don’t like the word excuse, so let’s go with reason and with any luck I’ll have your forgiveness soon. The aging process has been gradual for me, not unlike many of us. My hair is turning grayer and whiter and unfortunately looser as time passes. I’ve grown quite a bit of forehead over the years, and from the back I look a bit like Brother Dominic from the old Xerox commercials. I accept my middle age spread, feet of clay and CRS disease with poise and grace. Oh yea, aches and pains? I have a plenty, but so what, who really gives a rip, it’s all part of the process.
Okay, I do have a point to my rambling. About 2 weeks ago on Thursday I awoke with a strange tingling in my tooth. It was the tooth two stage left of my big tooth. The Dentist called it number six, for you tooth savvies out there. The interesting part is that old number six is surrounded by a crown on the left and a three-tooth bridge on the right. Yes, $$$$’s was going through my head.
Over the next two days the tingling progressed to irritation, pain, great pain and finally, please stop pulling on my tooth with those pliers, I’ll tell you everything you want to know pain. Friday night my face had swollen to Quasimodo look alike proportions. Can you say severe infection?
My good wife, gave me two Tylenol, and a glass of Bourbon, three fingers neat, and left a soulful message with my Dentist that would have brought Putin to his knees, pleading for the next open appointment. I know pills and booze can be harmful, but I just didn’t give a crap.
The pain peaked at about 4:30 a.m. I know this because I was pacing in my living room, trying in vain to go to a happy place, any happy place would have been just fine. Then, suddenly God gave me that thing I always pray for when I’m in dire straits. It went away. The acute agony was gone, but the yucky stuff had moved into the left side of my face. Very little pain, but really ugly disfiguration. I’ll take it. I went to bed and stayed there in my comfy fetal position until late Morning.
Did I tell you that this story is about cheese? Stay with me on this. I got an appointment the next morning. The infection was too new, so I was put on antibiotics and given an appointment for Wednesday. On Wednesday, my Dentist did her best to take me back to medieval times. She is the new kid in town. Probably a great Dentist, just out of Marquette Dental College, and I’m sure tried her best, but there was a penalty flag thrown.
Not enough Novocain, ouch.
Put more in and wait 10 minutes.
Pull out crown, lickety-split. Yea!
Break off old number six, keep trying to extract for 45 minutes with a 15-minute break to attend to another victim, oops, patient. NOT F***ing working.
Novocain wearing out, done. Bye-Bye.
Now have hole instead of crown, stump of old number six and wobbly bridge.
Hang in there. This story is really about cheese. I promise. I know a guy. Not a cheese guy, a mouth guy. I’ll get to the cheese soon. My wife’s cousin is an oral surgeon. His son is also an oral surgeon. They like us and we like them. They have a successful multi-office practice in Green Bay. So, off we went. Dr. Jason numbed me up, yanked the remains of “O#6”, blew up the bridge and took an impression in 30 minutes. No pain. WHOOT!!!
I received a five-tooth partial in the mail today, popped it in and have the smile of Paul Newman. It’s good to feel normal ain’t it.
Oh yea, the cheese. If you have been reading along the past few months, you know I like Door County, just about 43 miles north of Green Bay. When my wife and I went up north for my mouth issue, we took advantage of early autumn in paradise. We’re retired, we can do whatever the heck we want. We even brought Sydney the cat along with us.
I did my usual golf gig. Dar drove the cart, kept score, stayed in touch with the world on her smart phone, and I swung out of my shoes, trying not to hurt myself. We only had three days, so we did our usual left coast drive, saw the goats on Al Johnson’s roof, got some smoked fish at Charlies in Gills Rock, and thanked our Creator for His detailed attention to this glorious peninsula.
So, how about that cheese. There is a new place in Egg Harbor. It’s a real triple threat. CAVE Market, Door Artisan Cheese company, and Glacier Lodge Inn and restaurant.
Allow me to take you someplace else for a while. Don’t fret, it will come together.
In 1979 Dar, my wife, and I quit our jobs in Chicago, and took a seven-week back packing trip to Europe. We had just been married for two years, so, young and strong got the best of us. Dar had relatives in Zug and Zurich, Switzerland, and Hamburg and Berlin, Germany. Her Uncle Josef and his son, Tomas, took us to fantasyland for three days. They drove us through the Swiss Alps in their Europe style ford.
I swear we did the entire country. Josef was proud of his heritage, and showed off his patriotism as well as his beloved Schweiz. We did numerous towns and cities. From Luzern to St. Gallen, the Alpen panoramas were breathtaking. We spent our last night in Zermatt, on the Swiss, Italian border. It’s where the Matterhorn lives. Spend all your money and go there. It is majestic.
Late October, crisp air, crystal blue sky, snow-capped peaks. That evening, my new uncle took us to a restaurant for some local cuisine. We could see the big mountain against the full moon from our window booth. I was introduced to Raclette cheese, Swiss style. There are certain things you experience in life that you will never forget. This remains as one of my favorite happy places.
When we saw the wheel of raclette in the Artisan shop in Egg harbor, it all came back. We bought a hunk to treat ourselves when we got home. On our way out of town, the next day, we lunched at the Glacier restaurant and were elated to find raclette cheese on the menu. It was delicious. The ambience was quit different than Zermatt, but raclette is raclette is raclette. Try it, you will love it.
So, are we okay? Stay tuned for my next post.