CIRCLE

I saw The Norman Conquests tonight,
The production was lovely.

50% OFF

I get my filling replaced today.
I am nervous about getting my filling replaced because the muscles around my throat are weak.
I don't want Novocaine. I don't want to die today.

I consider not going to the dentist.
I consider staying home and folding laundry.

I call my sister from my bathroom and she says, "tell them not to use too much Novocaine. Michael (her husband) refuses it.
Doesn't use it all. But the pain can reverberate for days."

I go.

I bike through the twisted hell that is Midtown at noon on a Wednesday.

I see the same lady dentist.

I tell her right away that "I'm nervous."

She says "I know"

I tell her again,

"I enjoy taking care of my teeth, I've never had any issue with dental work, no fears, it's just that now, I don't trust my body, I mean one day I am having trouble walking, another day I can't swallow, I sit in that chair with a numb throat and I wonder if the reflexive muscles in my throat will just lie there and I'l choke to death."

"This time I won't use any topical solution," she says. " I'll just use half (50%) of the regular dose of Novocaine.
The topical stuff is what makes you nervous because it's so messy, it goes every where, in your mouth, in your throat, it's messy, but this time, we won't use, that we'll just use a little bit of Novocaine. And I'll use the kind that won't make your heart race."

(one has a choice?)


"okay, you think I'll be alright?"

"Yes"

She gives me a small shot to my upper left gum, I don't even feel "a pinch" and...

I panic.

But I wait.

A young female assistant comes in the operating room to give me a new fitting for a mouth guard so I won't grind my teeth.

I ask her her name?

"Amisha, it's Indian, I'm from Punjab?"

"Can you spell that?"

And Suddenly I am in flirt mode. Suddenly I am trying to pick up the young comely Indian dental assistant. Suddenly I am Andrew Mcarthy in his Brat-pack days.

I find out she's from California but has family in India.

"I've been to India a lot."

"I went to Bombay when I was in High School." I toss out.

"I met Indira Gandhi. " I add without restraint.

" I sang for Indira Gandhi. We were invited to her palace in New Deli. I have photograph of us together!"

(top that! I seem to be insisting)

"Wow... she's dead, or died, or something?" - (Amisha is part Punjab, part Valley girl)

"Assisinated" I correct.

"Oh. Right, wow...
I never met Indira Gandhi " she concludes inanely.

(Of course you haven't ! No one has! That's why I bring it up often and randomly!)

Amisha is acting like she's impressed (which is polite and game of her) and she's catching on to my flirty vibe.

So then...

she lets me know she is married.

"Did you get to pick your husband?" I ask (as a joke)... the caste system, get it?

"Oh, I had one or two choices" she volleys.

And then,

my dentist lady is back and my adventure in flirting (which I've always had a talent for but FORGET!) has deflected my angst.

"How are you doing?"

"You were right, I am fine. My throat feels fine."

And I am calm and confident. Happy to be sitting in the dentist chair, happy because I am taking care of myself and I am not home avoiding all the things that I'm supposed to be doing. Happy I am in the DENTIST chair doing what I am supposed to be doing.

And even with just a little dab of Novocaine, I am fine. No pain. I am blissful (really).

As she drills and pushes and pokes, the dentist lady checks in with me from time to time.

I am a good patient. Like a seasoned actor I take direction well.
I am good at listening to her various commands,

"Wider!"

"Clench down."

"Turn your head to the right? "

"Relax your lower lip..."

I am committed to all of her commands.

It is over.

And I feel super happy for having gotten through it. I am thankful to my dentist lady, "Thank you!" thankful to Amisha as I spit out, "Thank you!". I am delirious and jovial as I gather my things, my New York Times, my i-phone, my reading glasses.

I ask Amisha "and where will you be for the fourth?"

(she hesitates)

I follow up teasingly " it is Henry Hudson's 400th anniversary and the Hudson River is going to be hopping. Loads of fire works and crowds. It's the place to be! I'll be watching from the top of my building" I offer rediculously.

Amisha is slightly game, but not much.
"I'll be with my family, here in the city, my husband... celebrating."

"Well Happy 4th!" I come back! (like I'm Santa Clause and it's Christmas Eve)

I go to reception to check out. I owe nothing because I randomly, loosely, and sloppily, charged it to my American Express Card my last appointment. (I won't think about it today)

As I'm picking a date to pick up my mouth guard, the dentist lady walks by,

"Thank you" I intone again, and she says "your welcome" and then she touches me, ever so gently, on my upper arm.

I love that gesture. It's a favorite of mine. A warm, gentle affirmation of my existence with all the boundaries firmly in place.
I like it!

I go outside.
I go to Ollie's.

This time I have my glasses and prudently order brown rice and broccoli.

Next?
To Pottery Barn!
There's a 50% off sale.

MATTY'S APARTMENT on WEST 10TH STREET in the WEST VILLAGE

LIST

Sunday, my father goes to Falmouth Hospital.
I go to Church.

and then get stuck in the crowds of Gay Pride.

Sunday Night, I begin to watch The Bicycle Thief, a beautiful Italian motion picture from 1949.
I call my sister (though) as the bike is being stolen (put it on permanent pause) and we speak of my Dad.
who is not coming out of anesthesia.

And then we talk about my self imposed isolation.
She tells me that people have contacted her about me.
She did not return calls because she thought that I wanted to be in seclusion and handle it myself.

i think the whole thing has snow-balled.

Life is a list. And today I will make a list.

I will make a list of people to call and explain myself to.