Thursday, July 14, 2011

Confessions of a Toothless Psychopath

The other day I had my wisdom teeth taken out. This is my story...

The months leading up to it were not pleasant, the day of it was not pleasant, and the days preceding it have not, repeat not, been pleasant.

It all started the night before the surgery. I was scanning the brochure for the 5,000th time, making sure it said that I wasn't suppose to eat or drink eight hours before hand, hoping deep down that it was actually more like an hour and that I'd be able to wake up, eat five cookies to settle my stomach and calm my nerves, and then let a strange man pull teeth from my face.

Getting me out of the car didn't take that much coaxing. I was constantly told by people -my mom, dad, sisters, lady at the grocery store, man walking dog - that it was completely painfree; at least during the operation. I'd be asleep, what did I have to fear? Oh, maybe you haven't ever watched TV or movies? People asleep in chairs always get felt up. Now, I wouldn't call myself Ryan Reynolds or anything, maybe a Brad Pitt circa marriage to Jennifer Aniston. But, stuff like this still happens, and I'd be totally knocked up on drugs and unable to use my attack whistle.

Once inside the dentist's office I ran in to an old friend from elementary school, who, as fate would have it, was also getting his wisdom teeth out that day... at the exact same time as me. Oh joyous fates, how ye taunt me so. My planned morning of nerve wracking and nail biting was suddenly replaced with uncomfortable chit chat and catch up.

I got called in before my friend did. I couldn't help but feel a little happy at the fact that I had seemingly "beat him" in to the surgery. Sucker. I win.

I've only ever had two other surgeries in my entire life. One to have my tonsils taken out and one to fix the crappy job Doctor A did on taking my tonsils out. That's for another day. From what I remember from those surgeries, I wasn't as irrational as I was this time. It took me a few minutes to sit in the chair, another few minutes to actually put my head back, and another few minutes on top of all that to let the nurse stick my hand with a butterfly needle. Apparently it's the kind they use on kids. I was tempted to flash her my ID to prove that I could take a shot of Patron if I wanted to, but I wasn't reacting well to the prospect of any needle, so I figured a needle laced with vulnerability and innocence really couldn't hurt.

"Will it hurt?" I asked the nurse, death-staring at my dad from across the room.

"No, not at all. It'll feel like a tiny mosquito bite," She replied as she wiped the top of my hand with alcohol.

She inched forward with the needle. "OMG, DON'T DO IT!" I screamed. Actually, I didn't scream, but I did move my hand.

She grabbed a can of something from a tray and held it up. "If you'd like, I can numb your hand with this spray."

I took a deep breath, put on my best Spartan face (Gerard Butler anyone?) and let her prick me.
"Son of a bitch. What type of mosquitoes do you run in to?"

In the meantime they had placed an oxygen mask over my nose that didn't sit very well and smelled really strange. But don't worry, the nurse assured me that what I was smelling was cleaning products, the stuff they use to disinfect, and not some old man's nostril hair.

Wow, I thought, no way am I going to ever going to be relaxed enough for - And I was out. Apparently they'd started pumping the drugs.

The next thing I remembered was stumbling out of the chair into a wheelchair and being pushed into a recovery room where I was oh-so-hygienically placed near two other young adults stuffed with gauze like a Thanksgiving turkey. I remember thinking that, hey, this wasn't so bad. I was totally alert and completely in control of my body. Pft, drugs.

My attempt at walking to the car and nearly falling through the glass door quickly proved me wrong.

It's three days later. I'm pretty good, I guess. I was lucky enough to only have two teeth pulled, because that's all I had. The dentist said it's because I'm evolving, and that as humans evolve, we don't need those teeth as much anymore. What I heard was that only having two wisdom teeth was my god-given super power. I was a mutant. Any minute Professor X would be knocking on my door to tell me that I was special. I'd be next to Storm in no time. The only thing I had to do was wait and figure out exactly what my lack of two other teeth let me accomplish. I was hoping for either super strength or fire from my fingers.

Maybe those drugs haven't worn off completely.

I apologize for not having a recipe up for you today. It's been so long since I've posted and I'm so thankful that all of you still like me (I hope). Basically, my official excuse is that I'm really tired and in too much pain to write anything coherent (as witnessed from above)

What I'm trying to say is that I will be back to posting regularly very soon - as soon as the pain in my entire face stops.



  1. Oh this was funny. It seems like everyones wisdom teeth pulling experiences (at some point) are the same. However I did not once think about getting felt up....which now makes me wonder. i had my wisdom teeth pulled 10 plus years ago and thought it was the best sleep i will ever have.

  2. We should totally join forces with out super hero mutant powers. I only had 2 wisdom teeth too!! Hope you are on the road to recovery soon!!

  3. nice post...deffinatly you are sharing some usefull aspects..its gud

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