Dentists terrify me. With their gloved hands and gleaming instruments of torture, I try to stay clear of them.
But when one of my wisdom teeth started to crumble, I knew I had to do something. That was two years ago. TWO YEARS. I was starting to feel pain and I do not like pain, especially when it prevents me from eating food I like.
I called yesterday about getting the tooth removed. I went in this morning and had all four extracted. Yes, you read that right. All four teeth removed. And where, you ask, is the wisdom in that?
Well, it's all over at once. I don't have to agonize about doing the others down the road, because they were going to have to be done at some point. Now as I lay here biting down on bloody gauze, wondering when I will regain feeling in my tongue and cheeks, I'm thinking I could have held out a little longer. Maybe.
My daughter asked if I would still be smart without my wisdom teeth. Good question. I don't know the answer. I told her to let me know in a few weeks.
So before I completely fade into a Vicodin induced haze, I leave you with this, my impression of dentists everywhere.
