Friday, 1 February 2013

So long, troublesome wisdom teeth.

After a few years of dull pain, I'd begun to experience nearly a dozen bouts of severe pain from my wisdom teeth. The kind that wakes you up at night. I went to the dentist about a year ago and asked them about it, they had a look and said I had enough room in my jaw for my lower molars to develop. What a load of bollocks. Six months ago I went back, complaining of suprising pain (not to mention my front teeth buckling under the pressure, not very sightly). They begrudgingly referred me to the hospital, where today after an xray I was told I do not have enough room in my jaw and experiencing such pain means I'm eligible for surgery to have them taken out. As she was telling me this, my face is in agony, my cheeks ruddy and I'm starting to get a temperature. I just about blurt out 'oh god yes, please, get them out!' while she knowingly smiles. Despite my oblivion (I have no threshold for pain) I notice she has lovely teeth. Yes, I want this woman to help me. I doubt I will ever see Lois The Consultant again, in a hospital that size. Now that I have what I wanted all along, to have them removed, a fear has set in. A realisation that they are going to pull my teeth out. Have you ever seen the root of a molar tooth? I didn't think my teeth were that long under the surface. The reality of my impending horror is dawning on me. Worse still, they are drawing out the procedure by removing one at a time, waiting for the first to heal before taking the second. I have never felt so sick.

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