I never had my wisdom teeth out.
Whether that was originally because I didn’t want the work done or my parents didn’t want to hurt me or pay for it, I have no clue. But over the years I have developed a fierce vendetta against having body parts removed.
I have no problems donating organs upon death. And no problems cutting my hair. But my gallbladder and appendix and, gorram it, my wisdom teeth are staying right where they are. At least, until they start making life more painful then pleasurable by causing constant pressure and contributing to a different tooth cracking. ( We’re specifically talking about wisdom teeth now – I don’t think that my appendix has been causing mouth troubles… )
I found out earlier this week that my insurance hadn’t run out yet and that I had through the end of the month to use it. I promptly made an appointment to have those two pesky teeth extracted in hopes of being able to eat without pain. I planned to bike home after since the teeth were so far dropped that it was a routine extraction. And therefore wouldn’t hurt. Because I’ve had teeth out before. So…yeah.
Whitney was somewhat less than impressed with this idea and offered me a ride. I realized that the only time I’ve ever had teeth out was my baby teeth and that they probably hurt a lot less.
Over the hours leading up to the ride to the dentist I talked with friends about their experiences and the told me how much it hurt. Matt’s comfort was an anecdote about his last tooth-pulling session, in which the Novocain didn’t work and he almost passed out. “It likely won’t hurt as bad as that. Just make sure you’re numb before they start.” :s very helpful.
I was totally shaking by the time we got to the dentist – I had been doing dishes right before we left, instead of playing video games; that’s how nervous I was – and we had to sit for like 20 minutes before I even went back. Then I sat for another 20 minutes. We’d been there for like an hour when I finally got the gel stuff that makes you look like a poor attempt at a walrus and then the Novocain.
The Novocain – which I’m sure isn’t actually Novocain but instead some sort of ultra-health-endangering/protecting alternative – actually hurt worse that the procedure. I made the crack that after 8 piercings I should be able to handle a FREAKING 9 INCH NEEDLE OF DEATH being rammed into the roof of my mouth. The dentist laughed. My mind rationalized that with a piercing I get something cool at the end, with numbness I just trick myself into hurting less than I should. Also that numbing yourself because the pain will be too great is likely folly since pain is there for a reason which you are obviously ignoring if you numb, likely putting yourself in danger. Stupid mind.
After another 30 minutes of waiting – and this is why I always get confused when Americans say that socialized health would lead to long waits — sure, I didn’t have to wait to make an appointment to have my teeth ripped out, but I had to wait a good hour before anything happened; I never had to wait like that in England – the dentist popped back in the room and stabbed my mouth a bit to see if I could feel it, then locked his clamps ( of doom ) around my tooth and started working it like he was trying to loosen a particularly greasy-and-stuck engine part. When he moved on to the second tooth ( which required more not-Novocain ) he told me that most of the ripping and tearing sound I was hearing ( and likely, that strange, sweet, coppery taste at the back of my mouth ) were caused by his tools slipping. Because that is totally comforting and not blatantly a lie.
After maybe half an hour of pulling and tugging and slipping tools, my teeth came out. They were incredibly huge and left freaking massive holes in the back of my mouth that make it really, really difficult to eat. Especially crispy stuff. Which is only my favorite type of food. :(
Happily though, my vain speculation that my face would look slimmer without #1 and #16 was correct and – once the swelling went down and I stopped looking like a chipmunk – I now sport a lighter looking face. Which is little consolation in the face of eating that is painfully improbable.
And that’s how to get your teeth ripped out. Or something.
Oh! I totally got to keep my teeth. I’m going to turn them into earrings for special occasions ^^