AN AFTERNOON WALK

This is a tale of painful mishaps, an angel named Tiffany, new resolutions, and many thanks.

Last Tuesday around 4:30 PM, I strolled to a neighbor’s house here in the Island Club of Vero Beach. Mr. Wonderful and my sister Robin, who’d just arrived for a three day visit, had driven to CVS to fill a prescription so it was a timely opportunity for me to drop off mail that came to the wrong house.

This blissful short walk beneath a canopy of live oaks on a balmy afternoon ended abruptly when the toe of my floral espadrille caught the edge of a sidewalk paver. I went down like the Hindenburg, landing face first, full force, on the cement walkway. 

My immediate thought was, oh God, I’ve probably broken a hip, elbow or shoulder. Then I put my scraped hand to my mouth and discovered I was gushing blood. The tears started and wouldn’t stop. Somehow I managed to get up and limp 600 feet home where I went directly to the bathroom mirror. I was a dead ringer for poor Hedda Nussbaum, with broken front teeth, lacerated gums, torn lips, black eyes.

I called my sister on her cell. (Bob’s phone had gone immediately to message because it was home, not with him). I tried to talk but my words were garbled. She said, “We’ll be right there but the gas indicator is on orange .…” “Get here as fast as you can,” I begged.

Then I called my old pal Brian who lives here in the Island Club and told him what happened. He rushed over, called his dentist and said, “My friend Val needs to see you ASAP.” It was now 5:30, near closing hours. “Get here quickly — we’ll stay open for you,” the receptionist said.  

First we had to flag Bob and Robin who were racing down A1A towards us. We spotted them, honked and flashed headlights. They quickly pulled behind us but, alas, we immediately lost them at the next light. 

They had no clue who or where the dentist was, and daylight was turning to dusk— not the easiest time for my 83 year old sister or 85 year old husband to drive. I texted them the address, hoping they knew how to retrieve it from the phone, but wondered if I was sending smoke signals. Then I continued to stare with horror at my face in the visor mirror.

Dr. Tiffany Spallone gathered me in her arms, gently led me to her chair, pushed two of my dangling front teeth back into position, wiped my tears, then cleaned the mouth wounds. She called an ER that she favored (“Less waiting”) and told them I needed X-rays, CT scan of mouth and brain, stitching inside my mouth and lips. She gave me her personal cell and said, “You call me night or day. I’ll be in touch tomorrow morning with the next step.” 

Off Brian and I went to the ER with Bob and my sister following us and still almost out of gas. They won’t tell me the particulars (and I gather there were some) but they eventually filled the car with fuel and arrived at the ER. 

Over the next 48 hours Tiffany arranged for me to see an endodontist named Tomas (with soulful blue eyes who gently examined my mouth and said, “This is an unusual case but I don’t think you need a root canal yet.”), and then an orthodontist who put metal braces on my upper teeth to stabilize them and, hopefully, extricate the incisor that was lodged in  my upper jaw bone.

Throughout those next 48 hours, Tiffany called numerous times. “How are you doing?” “Yes, take a shower but don’t scrub those stitches.” “Make sure you eat food before swallowing the antibiotics.” “Don’t let the pain get ahead of you — take the Tylenol with codeine.” She was an angel from heaven and my new BFF. 

Things are now improving. I “embraced” the pain, as a dear friend suggested, and that helped. I also remembered that there is always a reason to smile. As I left the orthodontist’s office sporting new braces, the receptionist said, “Wait! You need a tee-shirt.” 

You’ve heard it said, “My folks went to Las Vegas and all I got was this lousy tee-shirt.”  Well, I actually wear my Legler Orthodontics tee-shirt with pride and thanks.

I’m painfully aware of the many mistakes made. We are on a three-month vacation here in Vero Beach. We don’t have a doctor or dentist, we have no idea where the closest Urgent Care is, and we’ve made no attempt to find out. We’ve been far more interested in locating the best Italian restaurant, the cutest beachfront bistro, the best public golf course. Oh, is there a Fresh Market here?

Additionally, I will never let the fuel gauge drop below one-quarter. Ever! I will make sure we both bring our phones whenever leaving home. I will give Mr. W. a lesson on how to activate the navigation system in my Subaru. And I will hold Dr. Tiffany Spallone, dentist extraordinaire, deep in my heart for the rest of my life.