He and a colleague had been given the task of knocking down a wall at work. The boss walked in and distracted dad at the same time as the other man was swinging his sledgehammer and a brick hit dad squarely in the face.
When he eventually came to, dad was in a dentist’s chair, my mum and family doctor in attendance, having lost all his front teeth. It was the sort of accident that could have netted dad thousands had it happened today. As it was, all he got was a set of dentures and a week off work.
Amazingly, the dentures are still in good nick after all these years. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for dad at the age of 89 and they no longer fit as they should and my own excellent dentist agreed to adding him to his list and we are due to go back again in January for a mould to be taken.
The new gnashers are part of dad’s determination to ‘sort himself out’ and the week before found us at the opticians for an eye test. Dad has mild cataracts and the sight damage that comes with age, but otherwise not too bad.
I was under strict orders from Mrs P not to allow him to select a pair of ‘old man’s glasses’, in other words not the exact same style he has been wearing for the last twenty years which, of course, is what dad wanted to do. Instead I insisted on a pair that, if not trendy, are a change from his usual style. And varifocals too, rather than the thick lensed bifocals.
The reason I mention this is a selfish one I’m afraid. Amid these trips and those to the hospital and the GP surgery came the reality of the ageing process and I couldn’t help thinking tthat this will be me in ten or twenty years time – relying on others to be being driven hither and thither to have all of my failing body parts sorted out. It is a depressing thought.
To cheer myself up, I had to play the Bellowhead Christmas song from 2013 which does the trick every time.