Thursday morning.

Work-From-Home Week 3. I think. Days merging together. Shelter-in-Place. Work-in-Place. Work 7 x 17.

I miss my commute. Miss my 30 minutes of quiet time in the car. Miss my 60 minutes of reading time on Metro North.

First conference call of the day. I step away from the call to grab dental floss. Multi-tasking WFH style.

I adjust the wireless headset, and focus back on the call. Tense. I catch myself grinding my teeth. A night (and now day) grinder. He warned me. After each check-up for years. “DK, you should consider a mouth guard. A retainer.” Nope. This Insomniac is not going to roll around in bed at night gagging on plastic.

Back to the call. I lean forward on the desk, and wrap up the call. I summarize the next steps and as I’m about to thank the group, my bridge loosens, and tumbles down my mouth, then my throat.  I gag, eyes water, I spit the bridge out onto my desk. My thank you comes out Thunkkkkk. Stunned by the chain reaction, I disconnect the line.

My tongue, an anteater, desperately searching for teeth, finds none. Cool air, laps the soft gums, fills the void.

Not the COVID-19 disruption that I anticipated.

Next morning. He agrees to take me in, my dentist. He opens his closed office. No assistants, a one-man band. Air suction, water syringes, sputum splashing from my mouth, onto his googles, onto his shield. 1 hour it took, reconstructing the breaks, putting Humpty back together again.

He walks me out to the door.

My tongue passes across the ivory of my front teeth. Smooth.

I bite down. The Bite, in line.

“Thank You Doc. You didn’t need to come in.”

I open the door, walk down the empty hallway leaving him behind me as he shuts down the office.

Thank you Doc. Thank you.

Inspired by: “And so I remind myself: my real challenge right now is a spiritual one. In the midst of an evolving, unprecedented crisis, can I truly practice living moment to moment? Can I take on this strange new life day by day, from a place of tender awareness rather than fear? Can I let go of the ways I thought life would unfold and save my strength to swim with the tide? Can I stay focused on what’s good, right now?” ~ Katrina Kenison, from “The gift of an ordinary day”