Back when I was about 12 yrs old my dentist told my mom, "she's gonna need those wisdom teeth out."
And just like when he suggested that I needed braces, and my mom declined, I thought I was lucky I didn't have to do it.
But now I want braces, in the near future anyway, because I'm tired of having Madonna teeth. And my dentist said "then those wisdom teeth are gonna have to come out."
I tried asking them nicely.
"Listen here teeth, you're smart fellows, why don't you just pack up and leave, and I won't have to make this a messy ordeal. Okay?"
They weren't agreeable to leaving, quite settled in I guess, after all these years, so I made an appointment with a hired goon.
(yes a doctor, not a goon)
The ordeal went something like this:
Receptionist: Have you eaten or drank anything?
Me: No.
Nurse: Have you eaten or drank anything?
Me: No.
Doctor: Have you eaten or drank anything?
Me: Gosh, this is like being interrogated, I guess if I had eaten anything I would have slipped up by now and my stories wouldn't match up.
Doctor: What?
Me: No.
Then needle in the elbow-pit, hair net on the head, oxygen mask on the nose, and goodnight folks I'll catch you on the flipside.
I asked to be knocked out, because that's what everyone says to do.
I woke up just like I had come out of an accidental nap in class. I vaguely remember coming home. My first moment of clarity was waking up on a bloody pillow. I guess they didn't tell my husband not to let me sleep on my face.
I had never been prescribed heavy painkillers before. Vicodin was what they ordered for me. I expected to proclaim I was the lost Emperess of Prussia or for John Lennon's ghost to start talking to me after taking them, but no. My teeth just didn't hurt as much and it made sleeping on my back easier. I'm on Tylenol today, seems the same to me. I guess this means I won't have to check myself into the Betty Ford clinic anytime in my life.
Kevin just came by to ask me what I was doing and I said "blogging about my teeth."
And he said "Oh these? They're right here," and handed me a little envelope stuffed with gauze lump.
"Ewww."
What am I supposed to do with them anyway? Test my faith of the tooth fairy?
5 comments:
you crack me up...prussia.
Oh, good luck, honey! I had that done my senior year in high school, and it was no fun. I didn't trip out on the vicodan either, but the valium they gave me to knock me out was very trippy. I remember they put me in a "recovery room" while I was coming out of it with striped wallpaper, and I swear to you, those walls were moving.
My dad kept my teeth cos he's weird like that.
i woke up in the recovery room talking to the nurse about doc martens. my face was pretty bruisy for a while and the drugs didn't turn me into a crazed addict either...they just made me sleepy. hope you're feeling ok!
Put the bloody shells under your pillow. Maybe Kevin can leave you some Target$$... I mean the tooth fairy might leave something. Anyway, glad you lived to tell the story and you're not too emotionally scared from no childhood braces. Mommy
I vaguely remember dozing off.
What I don't remember is
1: Making the doctor take a picture with me
2: Almost falling down the stairs from the surgeons.
3: Asking, nay, demanding a bean burrito and taco from Taco Bell when we were driving home.
4: Almost falling down each of the 3 Flights of stairs to our old apartment
I do remember waking up on the couch with a bean burrito in one hand and a taco in the other. My question to EK: "Why do I have crushed taco in one hand and oozing burrito in the other??"
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