The teeth

Ok, well, what is there to say about the teeth.

A looming deadline for my insurance benefits motivated me to get a long-overdue check-up. The check-up went great (and now I *swear* by my Sonicare toothbrush, which reduced that awful scraping time in the chair to almost nothing), but the dentist took a look at my x-rays and said, hm, you may want to do something about those wisdom teeth.

No one's ever mentioned that before (well, I haven't seen that many dentists, ahem), but he made a good case. They were practically wrapping themselves around the roots of the adjoining molars. So, given the pending insurance cut-off, I was referred to an oral surgeon, who scheduled me pronto.

Last week went like this: Monday: consultation. Tuesday: replace old filling (with dentist #1). Wednesday: fix the new filling (a bit too much of it in my toof). Thursday: get nervous. Friday: surgery.

I was only nervous because, when you mention to people you're having your wisdom teeth removed, everyone has a horror story. Either about the anesthetic or the painful recovery and risk of dry sockets. I was more worried about the former. I haven't been under general anesthesia since I was 4 (and all I remember there is that it smelled funny). Being put under by inhaling fumes, that's just creepy.

Well, that part was easy. Doc is such a pro. He said, "think of someplace tropical," and I said, "Hawaii!," and he said, "yes, Hawaii," and I imagined myself and Rusty on a beach in Hawaii, and that was all. When I woke up, I was soooo happy and calm and peaceful. Oh, there was still surgery going on; the doctor and assistant were still wailing away on the last tooth with mighty gusto. But I didn't care. They could have pulled all my teeth right then and there, and I would have been just fine.

The happy drugs wore off in the recovery area, where they kept me for about two minutes, and this is where I'll stop going into detail, because none of it is pleasant or entertaining and even fun to remember. I spent the rest of the day on the couch, and decided by evening that the prescription pain killer was not worth taking either. Ibuprofen will do just fine, thank you.

So now it's five days later, and I think I've dodged the dry-socket-bullet just fine. Phew. I'm still on soft-ish food, and nothing too hot. Actually, I think I'm just reluctant to let the ice cream and pudding diet go. But the swelling is mostly down, although there's a yellowish bruise spreading on my jaw, especially visible in fluorescent lighting.

I had a job interview on Monday, and the interviewer also had a horror story about her wisdom teeth extraction: She went playing tennis a few days later and got hit in the mouth by a ball. I think I'll wait with tennis until, oh, August.