It Will Be Just Like a Spa Retreat, With More Drugs and Drool
I’ve been putting off having my top wisdom teeth extracted for years. I’ve either been pregnant or nursing a baby off and on for the past six years so whenever my dentist would look over my charts with concern and begin the wisdom teeth extraction sales pitch, I’d adamantly resist being zonked out on pain pills for any amount of time.
The time has come. I’ve run out of excuses. Today is the day of the molar…the third molar, that is.
My top right wisdom tooth has come through my gums at a wonky angle and since I don’t want to be toothless by 50, it needs to come out. While they’re in there chiseling and pulling away they’re going to remove the top left wisdom tooth. My bottom wisdom teeth are apparently very cozy down in my gums and are also close to the neighboring nerves, so my oral surgeon said they need to stay put. And I’m definitely not going to argue with him.
My sister-in-law put my mind at ease when she told me that after having all four of her wisdom teeth extracted two years ago that she felt like going to WalMart late that same day. In fact, it occurred to me that being on pain medication might actually make a trip to WalHell more tolerable, although I’m planning on sleeping my anesthesia off all afternoon and night. Miss A is spending the night with my mom tonight as she’s at that age where mama, or pretty much any living, breathing thing lying down is an invitation to practice her awesome trampoline skills!
Like most things in life, I have to look at the humorous side and I know I lucked up because my oral surgeon is afraid of the dentist. That’s right. I have been referred to quite possibly the only oral surgeon in the nation who wholeheartedly admits to being terrified of going to the dentist. When he was 5 he had a bad dental experience, and ever since then he has to be sedated to endure even a routine cleaning. He recommended that I get knocked out via IV for my procedure so I’ll wake up sore and drooling, but I won’t remember a thing
I’m kind of looking forward to having an excuse to sleep all day and slurp all the frozen yogurt and jello and pudding I can handle over the next 48 hours. I just need to look at this as a spa treatment, with pain meds.
