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Thursday, 03 May 2007

The Slobberer

By Chuck Nyren of Advertising to Baby Boomers

For over a month I had these two sores on the sides of my mouth. Normally not much of a hypochondriac, it was time to worry. The blisters weren't healing.

Was it cancer? Does cancer come in pairs? I thought not. What about herpes? Had my mouth been burrowing in places it shouldn't have? Not lately.

Time for an expert opinion.

My dermatologist is a pretty lady and, like most doctors, when finally entering the examination room always appears preoccupied. It's as if she were dropping in for only a moment, and is really on her way to somewhere else much more important. Appointment or not, I'm forever grateful she's able to find those few extra seconds for me before she heads off to who knows where.

"Hello," she said to no one in particular, although I was the only one in the room.

"Now don't get too close," I warned her, backing away. "And I'd put some gloves on before you touch me. I don't know what this is - but it might be contagious." I pointed to my lips. "There are ... two of them. Here and here."

Without a hint of fear she reached up and pulled down on the sides of my mouth. "Ahhh," she said with a nod. "You drool."


“You drool."


"At night."

"But...old people drool."


I twitched and tried not to shudder. "Are you sure? I'm not even in my late fifties yet. I’m in my - earlier late fifties.”

"Let me give you a prescription that will clear it right up," she said, turning and sitting down.

I began to pace, stopping occasionally to look at my moldy old mouth in the mirror. "Couldn't you've lied and told me that they’re some sexually transmitted disease? So I could at least wear them as badges of honor?"

She wasn't listening. She was writing. "Put this on twice a day until the lesions go away, and repeat the process when the symptoms return."

"…They'll return?"

"If you keep drooling."

"B-B-But - what am I supposed to tell women when they sleep over and then wake up in the morning and see my head bobbing up and down in a pool of saliva?"

"Tell them you drool."

How happy I was for humanity that this lady had decided to dedicate her life to treating the disorders of the dermis and not of the psyche. As a therapist, patients would be jumping out of windows.

"Nice to see you again," she said, and off she went to that magic place all doctors are always on their way to.

Within a few days, the ointment did the trick and the blisters were gone.

And in case any single women want to meet me after reading this, it's easy to recognize me on the street. I'm the one sucking in air through my mouth like a spastic vacuum cleaner and looking up at the sky so nothing will dribble out. Just tap on my chin and say hello.

Posted by Ronni Bennett at 02:07 AM | Permalink | Email this post


Thanks1 I needed that! Nothing like a rueful chuckle to get the day off to a good start.

As my ex used to say--don't feel like the Lone Ranger!

You have to laugh at the crazy things life throws at you....it's the only way to get through them. I'm laughing Chuck....this was even worthy of a drool.

Sleep with a dental hygienist. They've seen it worse!

Well, thanks for blowing another false stereotypical perception of "old people" out the window -- that we drool! You're not old -- yet.

Charming, funny, and well-written. A wonderful read. Thanks!

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