Thursday, April 29, 2004
A GAPING HOLE
Tuesday marked the beginning of the end for my bottom left wisdom tooth. As per my dentist's instructions, I marched myself into this oral surgeon's office and had to wait for over two hours just to get into the back room.
Finally, the moment of truth came. As I was sitting in that chair all alone in the room, I ran my fingers over all my bottom teeth. So sad that one would soon be gone.
The surgeon came in and had me sign all these consent forms. Then, the nurse came in and gave me my "post-op instructions." Suddenly, I began to fear the worst since it finally donned on me that this was being considered a "surgical procedure." The surgeon came back in and rudely announced his name to me before jabbing me two or three times with Novacane and walked off. That strung (I'm a wimp when it comes to shots) really bad! Then, he came back two minutes later and asked, "Are you numb?"
"Yup," I replied.
"Okay, let's go. I'm going to put some pressure on the tooth."
And pop! Just like that, the tooth was out, the surgeon ripped off his gloves and walked out.
I was left with a gaping hole and gauze in my mouth.
The next few hours were bloody, but not very painful (surprisingly enough). And now, two days later, there has been very little pain, and only the inconvenience of trying to eat on one side and trying to keep the area clean.
Finally, you might be wondering if I kept the tooth. After being all nostalgic about the whole thing before the tooh was extracted, I took one look at it . . . and threw it in the trash.
Tuesday marked the beginning of the end for my bottom left wisdom tooth. As per my dentist's instructions, I marched myself into this oral surgeon's office and had to wait for over two hours just to get into the back room.
Finally, the moment of truth came. As I was sitting in that chair all alone in the room, I ran my fingers over all my bottom teeth. So sad that one would soon be gone.
The surgeon came in and had me sign all these consent forms. Then, the nurse came in and gave me my "post-op instructions." Suddenly, I began to fear the worst since it finally donned on me that this was being considered a "surgical procedure." The surgeon came back in and rudely announced his name to me before jabbing me two or three times with Novacane and walked off. That strung (I'm a wimp when it comes to shots) really bad! Then, he came back two minutes later and asked, "Are you numb?"
"Yup," I replied.
"Okay, let's go. I'm going to put some pressure on the tooth."
And pop! Just like that, the tooth was out, the surgeon ripped off his gloves and walked out.
I was left with a gaping hole and gauze in my mouth.
The next few hours were bloody, but not very painful (surprisingly enough). And now, two days later, there has been very little pain, and only the inconvenience of trying to eat on one side and trying to keep the area clean.
Finally, you might be wondering if I kept the tooth. After being all nostalgic about the whole thing before the tooh was extracted, I took one look at it . . . and threw it in the trash.
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