…Yet here it is.
I’ve made an appointment to have a wisdom teeth removal consultation, free of charge. Kind of makes it sound like a tree trimming service, doesn’t it? (Oh, how I wish it were; I’d much rather have my trees chopped down than massive holes drilled into my face.)
It has to happen, because those greedy fatsos (and yes, I have all four of them) are crowding the rest of my teeth, causing them to become more crooked with every passing second.
I know it has to be done…but it’s not going to happen before I whine and complain about it for hours on end. I’m not kidding: I really don’t want to have my wisdom teeth removed. As a matter of fact, undergoing that particular surgery is one of my biggest fears in life, second only to childbirth, and right ahead of awkward small-talk. On the hierarchy of things I would rather not do in my life…well, it pretty much reigns supreme. I bet you’d like to see that list, wouldn’t you? Okay…
Things in My Life I Would Rather Not Do
1. Give birth
2. Have four holes drilled into my face bones and four giant teeth wrenched from their sockets
3. Engage in awkward small-talk
4. Face confrontation
5. Walk down Main Street completely naked
6. Sing a solo in public
7. Own a cat
8. Try to bake dinner rolls
9. Read a poem
So there you have it. As you can see, I am very anti-wisdom teeth being pulled. It is not the surgery that worries me—it’s the post-op. The road to recovery is long and hard, so I’m told. My fears originated in high school, when I witnessed my friends’ and relatives’ recoveries from the procedure. I heard horror stories of being sent home from the surgery armed with hand-held suctions and syringes, to help remove food particles that would likely get lodged in the massive hollows of the jaw. I have been privy to tales of woebegone souls who suffer from sock-jocket or dry-locket or whatever the horrible affliction is called that often accompanies the recovery. I have seen the bloody rags, dripping with viscous saliva, that are used to quell the flow of blood to the throat.
I can handle my face swelling up to the size of a small planet, truly. But I can NOT handle the thought of an entire pea embedding itself into my gums.
I am queasy now, which is a direct result of my inability to deal with crap like this. Just think how I’ll be when I actually go through with it.
That will be a post you won’t want to miss.