MINERAL WELLS — For years I have been one to fall or stumble over the slightest bumps in my road of life. Rarely do I ever really hurt myself, but there have been cases of fractures, sprains, tears and bruises.

The fractures have been few and minor, the sprains and tears have sometimes required surgical repair and sutures, and the bruises have always been large, long-lasting and ugly.  I think my proclivity for falling may have caused me to unwittingly use my middle initial “B” in my official signature. I tell people that it stands for “Bennett,” for my maiden name, but it is probably for “Bungler,” indicating my clumsiness.

When I was younger, and thought about how foolish I looked, often falling down over invisible impediments; that I should, and perhaps could, try to remain upright when the floor, earth or sidewalks beckoned me to join them. I often covered several square feet of space in efforts to keep my feet under my head and upper body, every time I felt myself falling. Since the usual result of all this flailing around is eventual impact with the earth’s surface, Colon advised me to simply wilt and fall in my tracks so that I wouldn’t damage any nearby shrubbery, buildings or people. I never learned to do that.

My most recent fall came last week when I dashed out the back door to gather up cushions off the back porch chairs to prevent their getting wet. I will probably never remember exactly what caused me to fall, but I did. Only this time I fell directly to the floor, face down, skinning my knees, elbows, forearms and striking the left corner of my chin on the floor. Somehow my head was under the swing when I tried to get up. Thank goodness, no one saw the accident, because when they do I am always asked, “What happened? Are you hurt? Do you feel alright? Did you fall?” I hate that! This time I lay there for a while, asking myself all those same questions.

I was not really concerned about the fall the rest of the day. I bandaged the skinned spots, noticed the swelling and discoloration forming on my chin, but consoled myself that the chin still worked by eating one of Colon’s sugar-free cookies. Later on, at bedtime, I began my nighty-night routine, showered, put on my nightgown and started to take out my new partial denture for cleaning. It wouldn’t come out! I tugged on it, I rested and pulled on it some more, then had this terrible thought that all my other teeth might come out with it if I kept pulling. I quit pulling.

Sometime in the next day or so, I mentioned the fall and the denture to my red-haired daughter. I told her that I was having a hard time cleaning my denture, but I was rinsing dutifully with mouthwash after brushing. She had a fit and directed that I see the dentist right away. Colon agreed with her, so I made an appointment with Dr. W.T. (I think he still wants me to keep his name secret) to see if he could help without ruining my mouth.  In the meantime, my friends were all asking what happened to my chin, and turning up their noses when I hugged them, as if I had bad breath.

With grave doubts that I would leave the dentist’s office with any teeth, I submitted to the assistant applying a bib, laying out the tools of his trade (they always fill me with dread), and I leaned back, closed my eyes and prayed. Suddenly there was a light shining in my face, and on the other side of it, I could see my dentist friend smiling. His assistant had evidently told him my story and it had made his day.

I shut my eyes again and as I began to tense for the ordeal ahead, he put his foot on my chest, both of his big hands went into my mouth – one on each side of the denture – and began pulling. Suddenly the denture was in his hands and I was watching him adjust the little doo-dads that held it in place.

I was overjoyed and when I opened my mouth again to tell him so, he slipped the thing smoothly back into its proper place. (My foregoing description of the “operation” may be a little overblown, coming from an anxious mind. I think he will deny the “foot on my chest” statement if you ask him, but I swear that both of his hands went into my mouth.)

The entire thing took no more than a couple of minutes. I thanked my dentist, made sure that the denture would be easily removable when I got out of his office, and ran! Colon held my arm to make sure I didn’t fall down the steps.



Contact Index columnist Guinn Sweet at sweettalk@mineralwellsindex.com.