Tag: dentist

Excitement At Work – Almost

It was a typical day at work. For me it’s Tuesday – for everyone else, Monday. The weather was fine, so little trouble in that regard.

I came in, prepared the forecast and graphics, appearing on three newscasts and a webcast. Nothing terrible. I’m not exactly carrying cargo at the docks. I’m a lucky guy with a job I enjoy.

After dinner I returned to my desk – but not for long. There was a commotion in the newsroom. Outside, at the far corner of the building, off the street and away from casual observers, one of our longtime photographers had seen, and then smelled, smoke.

We called the fire department.

As far as I can tell, it is standard operating procedure for the fire department to get you out if they might be going in. We all filed out of the station and into the parking lot. Luckily, the weather was great.

The firehouse is only a few blocks away and it wasn’t long before a chief showed up in an SUV followed quickly by two fire engines full of firemen (I know they’re firefighters now, but each and every one that responded to our call was a guy).

As going to the dentist stops the pain in your teeth, calling the fire department stops the smoke! The building was inspected, but nothing was found. They even pulled the aerial ladder off one of the trucks and took a bird’s eye view of the roof.

Out in the parking lot, we milled around. So did most of the firefighters, each wearing what looked like heavy and cumbersome equipment.

Even though nothing was found, it was the absolute right thing to call them. You just don’t want to take a chance with fire. Anyway, it was also a chance for one of the firemen to ask about the marital status of one of our reporters – engaged, sorry.

By the time we got the all clear it was too late to run our 10:00 O’clock news at 10:00 PM. Master control had thrown on a syndicated show and ran a ‘crawl’ at the bottom of the screen – we’d be on at 10:30 PM.

And we were.

By the way, these late breaking, on-the-scene pictures of our faux catastrophe are EXCLUSIVE to geofffox.com and won’t be seen anywhere else.

School Days

I went to speak to a local elementary school today. I don’t usually speak to schools. My appearances are mostly associated with charity work.

In this case, my next door neighbors children go to this school. How could I resist.

This was an older school. Though a parochial school, it reminded me of PS 163Q where I “served” second through sixth grade. Don’t confuse ‘older school’ with ‘old style’ school . They are different terms.

However, this school was both! I don’t consider that to be bad.

The kids were very attentive and asked good questions. They weren’t scared to participate. I liked that.

There was one kid in the front who needed to be tied down for his own (OK – for my own) good. There’s at least one in every class. I was it in my school.

When I do these school talks, we always suck eggs into Snapple bottles. The kids love it. They like it even better when a teacher, Sister Pia in this case, holds the bottle.

We never had fun people stop by when I was in elementary school. We had a dentist… once. He told us you needed to use ‘elbow grease’ when you cleaned your teeth. One girl (I remember her name but won’t put it here) raised her hand and asked where elbow grease could be bought.

Connecticut Association of Schools Dinner

For the past 11 years I’ve been the emcee for the Connecticut Association of Schools Elementary Program Recognition Banquet. That’s a mouthful. Eleven years and I still can’t fully remember it without looking at a piece of paper.

It takes place at the Aquaturf in Southington where teachers, principals and other educators feast on prime rib. Year after year they continue to serve the largest portion of prime rib I’ve ever seen.

I’m impressed by these teachers, because they’re down there in the trenches. What they do does make a difference, though often they’re only recognized when a parent disapproves of what they’ve done to his child.

Usually I get to do the weather from the banquet hall. We actually pause the program and I leave the podium to do the weather… and pick one teacher to embarrass.

I was called on often enough by teachers when I wasn’t prepared. Turnabout is fair play!

On the way back to work I started to think about my grade school experience. I went to kindergarten and first grade at PS 201. I remember nearly nothing of that experience, except my parents were proud because in first grade I wrote a ‘book’. Sure all my ‘b’s were ‘d’s and vice versa… and it was only a few pages… but it was a book.

I remember a whole lot more about PS 163. It was housed in an old brick building in a quiet neighborhood. The chimney was wrapped with some sort of straps to keep it from disintegrating. To get there, I had to walk two blocks, cross the Long Island Expressway via an overpass and then walk a few more blocks.

I looked upon PS 163 as some sort of prison. It was a very very unpleasant time for me. I’m not sure it wasn’t also an unpleasant time for my teachers, whose lives I probably made a living hell.

Here are some brief bullet points of things I remember.

  • A boy, whose name I still remember and whom I won’t embarrass 40+ years later, somehow came to be shunned by the class. He was an overweight kid, which made his life difficult enough already. There was a rumor he had body odor, or something similar. After he drank at one of the twin water fountains, a student put up a note and we all drank from the other fountain. We were jerks. Can I apologize now?
  • In the fifth grade… maybe the fourth… my mother was called into the school. As I sat on the hard wooden bench outside the office, the principal (an old biddy who even then seemed like a throwback to the prior century) told my mother I had been telling dirty jokes. Mom later laughed it off. Thanks Mom.
  • I once won a spelling bee, possibly my only academic achievement, when I correctly spelled “government.” That it had already been misspelled by a few others made victory that much sweeter.
  • Someone from World Book Encyclopedia came to the school. Today I would look upon this as an unwarranted sales call on little kids. Back then it was OK. She said, “We never guess, we look it up.” I can’t get that phrase out of my mind to this day. I have used it as if it were part of the common lexicon. It isn’t, unless you were in PS163 with me.
  • We never had recess – not once – not ever
  • I never remember seeing a teacher leaving the classroom while it was in session. How did they go to the bathroom?
  • At one short point we played basketball outside. Most of the limited gym classes we had in the school were spent square dancing. “Heel and toe and one, two, three.” The school owned a Caliphone; a phonograph with variable speed capabilities that allowed the teachers to slow it down so even we could attempt to square dance.
  • There were only two male teachers in the entire school. They only taught the dumb kids.
  • There were only two black students: Hubert and Herbert. This was very odd as I lived directly across the street from a fully integrated city housing project. Years later, my mom said the school was purposely segregated. I didn’t know that at the time. It makes me uneasy even now.
  • The library was the size of a closet. In fact, at one time it probably was a closet.
  • We had huge classes with over 40 kids. Teachers were still able to maintain discipline and teach. I am always wary when I hear claims about class size being a paramount contributor to the quality of education.
  • When one girl in the fifth grade developed noticeable breasts, it became a big deal among the male students. It might have become a big deal with the girls too, but I had nearly zero contact with them. I definitely had zero contact with the girl with the breasts.
  • A local public library began having chaperoned afternoon dances. Our principal tried to have them stopped. I’m not sure if she was successful.
  • A dentist came and spoke at an assembly. He said the secret to good teeth was to brush and use some elbow grease. Again, I remember the name of the girl who raised her hand to ask where you could buy elbow grease. I’ll keep it my secret.
  • As far as I could tell, there had been no one in the United States prior to 1900, because everyone’s parents or grandparents or even my fellow students came from the old country… not the U.S.
  • The school had a master clock system. The minute hands moved once every minute, not gradually each fraction of a second. As we approached 3:00 PM, I would watch those clocks and they seemed to slow down.
  • During the spring and fall, ferocious thunderstorms would rattle the school. I have never heard thunder as loud, nor have I been as scared of the weather, as I was then.
  • The art teacher drove a white Cadillac
  • It was rumored the male fifth grade teacher had thrown a ring of keys at a recalcitrant student.
  • The school had tracking – grouping the kids by their academic abilities. I was with virtually the same kids from second through sixth grades. This method has lost favor over the years, but I think it worked in our school.
  • Of all the kids I went to grade school with, in the past year I have been in contact with just two of them.
  • I’m pretty sure I never did homework, nor did I ever study. I am not proud of this.

    • Dentistry And Me

    If God is good, Steffie will inherit Helaine’s teeth and not mine. I’m not sure where else there is to work in my mouth. My fillings must have fillings by now.

    A few months ago I had a root canal performed. Now comes the next stage – a crown.

    I’m not sure why, but I made an ‘early’ morning appointment. OK, 10:30 AM is only early morning for me!

    I like my dentist. There’s really no way for me to judge his work. I hope he’s good at it. I sense he is because he’s smart, methodical and organized.

    Really, the only way to know is if another dentist says, “don’t go there anymore.” I speak from real world experience in this regard, because it happened to me.

    I had become friendly with a dentist and started having lunch with him and his friends – all dentists. One day at lunch one of them took me aside. He knew who I had been seeing (not my friend by the way). He said I should never return to that office again… that the dentist was a “butcher.”

    Yikes! That was one scary conversation. But I wouldn’t have known had I not been tipped off.

    I figured today’s procedure would be simple. Take a mold. Make a crown. Then I looked down. In the dentist’s hand was a syringe. I was about to get shot.

    Maybe it’s my experience, or maybe the doctor’s skill, or where in the mouth it went, but the shot wasn’t that bad. Sure, no one likes to have part of their mouth temporarily paralyzed, but I’ll put up with it. What choice did I have?

    This is but half the battle. I only have a temporary crown. Next time it’s the real deal.

    Soupy Sales was right. Be true to your teeth or they’ll be false to you.

    The Pain Is Gone

    This entry was originally going to be named, “Steffie -The Pain Is Gone,” but I was afraid it would be taken the wrong way! Steffie’s not gone, but her pain is.

    A few weeks ago, while visiting the orthodontist, the decision was made that her four wisdom teeth would have to go. That’s a lot of wisdom.

    Steffie finished her school semester, went to Florida to visit my folks and then flew back to get this dental work done. The actual surgery was done Thursday with the thought she’d recuperate over the long Christmas weekend.

    Everything went really well. The surgery was easy… or so we were told. Steffie came out with swollen cheeks and everything between her chin and tongue numb.

    We expected her to suffer somewhat on Friday but when the pain persisted into Saturday and Sunday, we knew something wasn’t right. Originally she applied ice, took Motrin and suffered in silence. When things didn’t get better she started taking a stronger painkiller.

    I don’t think there’s any way for Steffie to understand this – I certainly couldn’t have understood before I became a parent, but Helaine and I felt every bit of it. Even more, we felt powerless that we couldn’t make her feel any better. A parent is supposed to comfort their child.

    This morning Helaine called the oral surgeon to tell him of Steffie’s troubles. Within a few hours they were seeing him.

    It turns out Steffie had two dry sockets. I’m no dentist, but I think it means the little clot of blood that protects the surgical area was gone. Within a few minutes, but after enough a lot of pain, Steffie was fine.

    It was amazing to see her return home happy after knowing she left hurting. I’m really glad Helaine called the surgeon today… probably not as glad as Steffie is.

    Rapid Dentistry

    Yesterday, while brushing my teeth, a small piece of a filling fell out. It makes you question brushing, doesn’t it?

    There was no pain, but I knew it wasn’t good. I called my dentist’s office only to find he was on vacation into the new year. His associate was covering and she could see me today.

    I went today for a 12:15 appointment. She was quick and thorough and I was temporarily patched with no pain. I can’t begin to thank her enough for seeing me on such short notice.

    Here’s my only problem with going to the dentist (and in this case it was the assistant, not the dentist who was the bearer of the problem). I don’t want to be made to feel guilty by what I did (or didn’t do) when I was young and foolish.

    I want to make sure my teeth survive, but I don’t want to shy away from the dentist because I’m worried about what I’ll hear.

    Root Canal on Tooth Five

    It’s a good thing I haven’t named my teeth. Over the years I would have cried for some of them. They have been poked and prodded. Some have survived, some have died, others have gotten a makeover.

    As it turns out, my teeth are numbered. I didn’t know that, but when the periodontist sent me to the endodontist, good old number five was getting the work. Number five is on the upper right (from my perspective) side of my mouth.

    This all began when a pea sized bubble mysteriously appeared on my gum. I’ve had no pain, but I did have an infection. Within five seconds of seeing the x-ray, Barry the periodontist said root canal was in order. Different specialty – go down the hall to that other office.

    My appointment was this morning at 10:00. A few days ago they called to ask me to be there fifteen minutes early to fill out the paperwork.

    I am Geoff. However, when it comes to insurance, my drivers license, and my mom when she’s angry, it’s Geoffrey. So, Geoffrey filled out the forms.

    I had met Bruce the endodontist before. He had previously renovated another sick tooth. I have no idea what he was doing in my mouth, but I had 100% confidence in him. This is the kind of thing, I suppose, you can sense in someone.

    Originally from Korea, where he first became a dentist, he came to the United States and had to train again. He is bright, focused and unbelievably gentle. This is no small feat. Not every dentist is gentle – and it makes a huge difference.

    I also like Bruce because he’s a techno guy. He might not admit to that, but it’s true. The last time he worked on me he took pictures of the result with a digital camera. Now his office had a digital x-ray machine with the results displayed on an LCD screen that also hosts the office’s business system.

    Up high, where a patient lounging in the chair could see is a flat screen TV. Only in a dentist’s office is the remote control wrapped in clear plastic.

    Much of this was wasted on me because the first thing I did was put on the mask and start breathing nitrous oxide. I don’t drink, so I can’t be sure, but this has to be a little bit of what being tipsy is all about.

    As soon as the gas took hold, he gave me two injections on the upper gum. I hardly felt them. Certainly, I have never felt any injection less.

    The entire root canal took a little over an hour – and that’s it. Two hours of no eating for the filling to set and I’m good to go. Well, not exactly. A root canal is always followed by a crown, so there’s more fun ahead, I suppose.

    I drove home, still a little woozy from the gas. A few hours of rest and time for the anesthetic to wear off, and now there’s hardly any discomfort at all.

    I am truly amazed.

    It’s Good To See Old Friends

    I have been friendly with Barry since I met him at my first poker game in the late 70s. During the time both of us were ‘between wives’ we hung out took together… even took vacations together. Though we live far apart I still consider him one of my best friends.

    I should add, going on vacation with a dentist is a learning experience. I seem to remember his swishing mouthwash at least a half dozen times a day. And, you’ll be glad to know, no one has cleaner hands!

    We weren’t able to see Barry in Atlantic City, but knew he and his wife would be passing through on their way to a wedding in Rhode Island. Originally we were hoping they’d come to the house for bagels and lox, but time didn’t permit. So this morning we drove into New Haven and waited for them at the Greek Olive.

    Their trip took a little longer than normal because of traffic on I-95. There are choke points here in Connecticut that slow any trip down – and they hit them all. It is especially true around the Greek Olive which is next door to the new Ikea, itself a destination for thousands.

    It’s always good to see old friends. You can catch up on their lives and then trash everyone else you mutually know.

    Barry and Sheila were my first friends to become grandparents. It was fun for them, sobering for me. Having contemporaries with two generations below them isn’t something you think about while growing up.

    They left, leaving Helaine and Steffie the opportunity to walk across the lawn to Ikea. If you’re not here in Connecticut, you have no idea what a big deal has been made of this store. We had stories on the news. The newspaper splashed it across its “A” section. It’s an especially significant event for New Haven which has had almost no new retail activity in years.

    The parking lot was even more crowded than when I went with Ann earlier in the week. Outside, a New Haven firetruck stood in front of an ambulance. Both had their emergency lights on. I figured it was a shopper who had bought something and only then realized he’d have to find a way to get it home and then assemble it!&#185

    The crowd inside the store would make you think they’re giving something away. It’s been a long time since I bought furniture, so maybe they are. I’m unqualified here. I do know it’s simple and spartan. Some of the items are so simple they resemble the milk crates we used for furniture in my college dorm.

    I left Helaine and Steffie to walk around and returned to the car. Since I had my camera, I wanted to take a photo of the former Armstrong Tire (then Pirelli Tire) Headquarters. Built 35 years ago and designed by Marcel Breuer, the upper floors of the building float above the rest. It’s abandoned now, used mostly to hang billboards. There are rumors it will be reworked into a hotel or other commercial space.

    As I walked, I caught glimpse of a few of the cameras that have gone up since Ikea was finished. Most of the surrounding intersections have four fixed cameras to see what’s going on. I think, since they’re on the same pole as the traffic lights, that they go back to the city.

    Helaine and Steffie met me at the car. Steffie had bought an ice cream cone, the second food related purchase made by my family at this furniture store. In fact, with my earlier trip, we’re 0-2 in furniture.

    &#185 – I am only kidding around because a fireman told me someone who had fallen and wasn’t serious.