So I may have mentioned my teeth and the removal of said teeth. The dentist yanked three of my perfectly serviceable molars out today just because of a wee widdle toofache! A toothache that made me want to go play in traffic, but still. Doesn’t it seem like just ripping them out is overdoing it a little?
Anyway, I prepared the lovely image above to show what was done. It makes it look like it was the right side, but actually, it was all on the left. I don’t know why I did it that way, but it seemed to make sense. Shut up, I’m on painkillers.
The teeth marked in red never showed up in my face, so we don’t have to worry about them. The ones marked in gold were removed during my wisdom teeth extraction in 2004, and my word, please do remind me to tell you that story because it is amusing! If by “amusing” one means “horrifying!”
The teeth marked in blue are not in my face anymore as of about 7 or 8 this evening. I have very gingerly felt the area with my tongue, and it’s weird to have nothing there but bloody gums. But you can’t see anything when I open my mouth normally, my cheek isn’t sunken, and the swelling has gone down to be hardly noticeable from the outside. I ache a bit, but it’s nothing like the agony of losing my wisdom teeth.
Finally, that tooth I marked in green. That one needs a root canal, and has a temporary filling right now. I do not look forward to the next step in this process, but it must be done. Roooooot canal. Have you ever had one of those? I recommend you avoid it. Brush and floss, kids. Don’t be like your Auntie Kate.
As brutal as it was having three teeth removed and one prepped to be violated in the worst way a tooth can be, I’m glad I had the courage to just get this done. I am terrified of dentists and their minions. And tonight, even with 2mg of Ativan in my system (which would probably knock you, dear reader, on your ass) I was shaking uncontrollably in the chair. The doctor and his assistant checked many times to see if I was all right. And I was. I just couldn’t stop the shaking. I hummed when I was scared. Not anything with a real melody, just notes. Hmm hmm haaaaa. I squeezed my hands together. I asked for more Novocaine when I felt the slightest twinge of pain, and the dentist was great about keeping me comfortable. And as he strong-armed my teeth into giving up and coming out, while I wasn’t happy to be where I was, I coped. No crying. No screaming. No needing to get out of there and have a mid-procedure, blood-soaked cigarette.
I’m proud of myself, in other words. And relieved that I found a dentist whose staff I am comfortable with, who laugh when I crack jokes to lighten the mood (my own, if no one else’s.) This could have been a much worse experience than it was. I’m grateful it went smoothly and now I don’t have to hurt anymore.
Now to tackle the rest of my teeth! I think I might give it a week or two, though.
Self-Indulgent Drivel 