Wisdom Tooth Aftermath

I think I was a teenager the first time I visited a dentist. By then my teeth were already crooked and I had developed some pretty bad brushing habits (like, none), so my first dentist visit … let’s just say it wasn’t pleasant. I’ve only visited two different dentists, and the experiences were surprisingly similar: I show up, they take x-rays, they make fun of me for having so many cavities (in my mouth, not on my body), they do some work and make comments like “what a wuss!” and “look out, he’s a bleeder!”, then I pay for the privilege of having my face pummeled and we schedule a date in the future for me to return.

Then I don’t return. (See what I did there?)

Mason was less than a year old when I bit into sometime and one of my wisdom teeth broke in half. I was embarrassed and afraid and braced myself for the pain, but for whatever reason, the pain never came. Over the past few years, that half a tooth just kind of wore itself down into a cute little nub. Most adults have 32 teeth; I had 31 1/2. I could live with that.

About a month or two ago, another wisdom tooth decided it was time to move out of my mouth. One day I had a wisdom tooth; the next day I had a wisdom tooth with a crack in it; the third day I had a hollow shell of a tooth where a wisdom tooth used to be. Wow, that was quick.

Again, with no pain, I didn’t see the urgency of having anything done. But, ho ho, teeth have funny little senses of humor. They don’t hurt when you’re in the city, near a dentist office. No, this one decided to attack while I was in Cleveland. And he called his buddy, the tooth that hadn’t really hurt once in the past seven years, and they decided to gang up on me. OH HO HO YOU ARE TOO FUNNY TEETH. The last night I was in Cleveland the pain was almost unbearable. I did everything I could think of to stop the pain, but nothing helped. The next day, I got to drive 1,100 miles with two pounding teeth. HEY WE’RE HERE HURTING YOU. Yeah, I noticed.

Me scheduling a dentist appointment is kind of like somebody on death row saying, “this place is boring; let’s get on with the killing.” My two little white friends decided to back off for a couple of days — were they calling my bluff? Or was I calling theirs?

And so, that’s what got me into the dentist’s chair yesterday. Nobody made fun of me and nobody hurt me. They took and x-ray and said, “oh yeah, those need to go.” Then I watched a video and signed a bunch of paperwork that said, “this may kill you.” You know, after a week of tooth pain … I’m just sayin’, it didn’t sound like a terrible outcome by then.

They got me into the chair and gave my some oxygen and we watched my blood pressure go from 140 over whatever to 180 over whatever in a matter of minutes and everybody thought that was pretty entertaining except for me. They hooked me up to an IV and gave me some nitrous and then I went to sleep.

Then they started working. Then I woke up.

It didn’t hurt so much, but I knew what they were doing. I could feel my head being yanked around as they pulled teeth and scraped years of plaque from between my teeth. Unbelievably it didn’t hurt, not that I could have done anything about it if I had wanted to.

Hours after that are a blur. I remember someone helping me into a wheelchair, but I don’t remember getting out of it. I don’t remember riding home. I remember napping, waking up, and napping some more. I remember pulling out bloody gauze and putting in fresh wraps.

Surprisingly, there’s been very little pain — certainly nothing has hurt as bad as my teeth were hurting before, so that’s good. I took the prescribed pain killers for 24 hours and now I’m just taking Tylenol. Nothing hurts, but things ache — my jawbone and gums in particular. But, like I said, nothing inside my mouth hurts like it did last weekend, so I consider the experience a victory.

The sedation stuff they use nowadays is weird. I was tired and falling asleep for six hours after the procedure. I finally got up around 7pm but I was still a little groggy. Last night was Nasty Pirates Night and I went against my better judgment and things went okay although I could feel soreness and pain from talking and laughing (not that it stopped me). Today I’ve already taken two naps and I feel a third coming on shortly. I don’t know why I feel so wiped out, but I do.

Yesterday all day I had: two servings of mashed potatoes, and … that’s it. Today things are better; I had a piece of toast w/peanut butter on it, a PB&J sandwich, and a bowl of Ramen noodles. It’s not that I can’t chew … it’s just that I’m afraid to hurt myself. After a day or two I’m sure things’ll be okay.

I lived, I’m alive, and I don’t regret it. It hurts a little, but nowhere near as bad as it was hurting before. Things are gonna be okay … and that’s the “tooth”.

“Stimpy, I’ve been a fool. I should have brushed my teeth. But now my teeth, they are gone. And all I have left … are stinky holes.” – Ren