So there I was, waiting for my mouth to go numb and suddenly I had the sudden realization that I was not really in control of my situation anymore. I was afraid to move, almost afraid to even breathe for fear that I might swallow my own tongue. It was a very weird experience as I had not had my mouth numbed for quite some time. I couldn't help the thought that I wasn't the one in control anymore. There was no going back and I had no choice but to trust the dentist as he dug into my gums to retrieve the unwanted tooth. I had been worried all night before that something might go wrong. How did I know for sure that they weren't making a mistake and that the tooth was even in there? It had never bothered me before and I could feel nothing to signify that the tooth was even trying to come up. I started to doubt that it was there and I hoped and prayed that the dentist had been right and that I wouldn't have to undergo such an ordeal for no reason.
Such were my thoughts all that morning as I anticipated the inevitable. I told myself that it wouldn't be so bad, I only had one wisdom tooth and very soon it would all be over. It wasn't so bad at first, and I remember thinking after it was over, how fast it had been. I could hardly talk as half of my face was out of commission, but it was over! I bit onto the gauze as it soaked up the remains of the still oozing blood, hoping that I was biting onto that rather than my own cheek. How could I tell the difference? My cheek had no feeling.
Then the numbing started to wear off and I decided that, as annoying as it was to be numb, I would rather not feel anymore. That was when I first felt the pain of what I had just gone through and I wanted to cry. I took some medicine and held the ice pack to my cheek. How lucky I was to have only one wisdom tooth. Eventually the pain began to sooth and I was able to drink some orange juice through the left corner of my mouth.
Eventually I could actually start eating some food and I began to feel slightly better although it still hurt to move my mouth up and down. Hopefully I never have to go through that again. This will hopefully be the last time I have to tell this story...
I used to hate doctors, dentists, whatever. They were all associated with one thing, shots. Very unpleasant. I think a part of me hated going to the doctor or the dentist because I didn't really know or understand what they were going to do with me. It's just that when you do go to the doctor you sort of just have to trust that they know what they are doing. It's sort of like saying..."OK take care of me but please don't mess up. This is my body we are talking about."
Well, I am very pleased to say that everything is fine. There was definitely a tooth back there and it is now out. The dentist didn't mess up and I am great, despite a little trauma to the mouth. Or at least I hope so...
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