When I retired, I switched my electronic calendar from Outlook to Google. In Outlook (my work calendar), you schedule a “Meeting” or “Appointment." In Google (my retirement calendar), you create an “Event.” Now that sounded promising.
I imagined my new calendar filled with all kinds of “Events” — weeks in a Tuscan villa, jazz concerts at Lincoln Center, hiking excursions in the Himalayas. Well, maybe scratch the Himalayas — not really my style.
As it turns out, most of my “Events” have involved examining, dilating, probing or otherwise treating a deteriorating body part. My teeth seem especially vulnerable.
Shortly after retiring, I lost a crown. I became paranoid. Suddenly I pictured my elderly relatives in nursing homes, their dentures soaking in glasses. Fortunately, I snagged an appointment with my dentist a few days later. He’s a funny guy who happens to look like Seth Rogen. He explained that not only had the crown popped off, but the tooth had broken too.
“Imagine you have a hat on,” Dr. Seth said. “The hat comes off, but with it your head comes off, too. That’s what happened to you. Get it?”
“Yeah, got it.”
“You know, Rose, I never used that explanation before. But it seems to work, and I’ll probably use it again.”
“Well, doc, many people have said I’ve inspired them to develop great thoughts.”
“Yes, you are my muse! Can I pay you to come here from time to time and inspire me?”
“Perfect. I just retired and am looking for a new gig. When can I start?”
Eventually, after Dr. Seth and I finished our improv routine, we discussed options for fixing my broken tooth. I decided on an implant. And so began multiple visits to both the periodontist and my dentist. Lots of time (which I now had), loads of money (not so much).
The periodontist was way more appealing than Dr. Seth — think Antonio Banderas — and had a much better playlist: samba, bossa nova and other Latin tunes. The dental work was excruciating, but between the meds, the music and Dr. Antonio hovering over me, I almost looked forward to my “Events.” Almost.
After one procedure, Dr. Antonio instructed me to go on a liquid diet. To my chagrin, my favorite liquid, wine, was on the banned list. This reminded me of similar instructions after surgery several years earlier. Back then, as I prepared for my follow-up appointment, the only recovery question I could come up with was when I could resume drinking. Worried that might make me sound like a desperate alcoholic, I actually Googled “questions to ask your doctor after surgery” and arrived armed with several respectable inquiries. I skillfully slipped the alcohol question somewhere between questions about returning to Jazzercise and resuming my normal diet.
This time, the aftercare restrictions for my dental work also included no smoking or sticky substances, so I had to refrain from inhaling weed and ingesting edibles. No wine, no weed, no solid food. A dental detox diet. I lost five pounds. After all the pain, procedures, restrictions and expense, at least I could fit into my size 8 jeans again.
Five months and countless dental “Events” later, my dentist finally screwed in my new tooth. At last, my calendar was free for more pleasant experiences.
Until I noticed, sandwiched between film fests and dinner appointments, a colonoscopy scheduled for Wednesday at 9:30 a.m.
— Rose Greene
Rose Greene worked as a university social researcher, writing data reports and policy papers. Since retiring, she has happily pivoted to writing humor and personal essays. Her work has appeared in Business Insider, The Belladonna Comedy, Little Old Lady Comedy and The Haven.