Yesterday I had a dental checkup. Like everywhere else in this mountainous town there are steps to his office. I started up them then felt myself slipping and grabbed the handrail before falling to the ground. Holding the rail with both hands I used it like a mountain climber's rope. But while I lost both feet I made it to the top and into the building. The receptionist was staring wide-eyed. "You okay?" I assume she thought I was drunk. She said, "Excuse me" and disappeared into the back. It's a Mormon family dental practice. Then I heard furious mumblings til the tight-lipped doctor appeared and ushered me into the exam room. There he examined me said I had excellent teeth. I responded I've always hated the dentist. At age 5 or 6 I had 11 teeth pulled by an army dentist. That broke the tension. I explained being an army brat during the Viet Nam era the dentists were all draftees and really pissed off about it. I suggested he buy ice melter for the front steps.
Today it feels like a fell off a mountain; Lumbar and Sacroiliac pain all along my back. I wish marijuana was legal here.