I had my first wisdom tooth removed yesterday. I’ve managed to make it all the way to 29 with having only a mole removed from my person and I’ve been clinging dearly to the three wisdom teeth I do have for the better part of the past decade. I’ve largely felt that the wisdom tooth removal business is an absolute racket and since my smartest teeth weren’t moving anything I was damn determined to keep them forever and ever and amen.
But then my lonely left side tooth of wisdom grew itself a cavity and suddenly, all bets were off.
The dentist said it would be easier to take it out than to fill it. They said I should just make a day of it and have the whole cluster of teeth taken out, in one big swoop, and I said NO, THANK YOU to that mess because I didn’t want to have to deal with having three teeth taken out all in one day without Andrew here to deal with my whiny and miserable ass, so we scheduled the removal of one tooth.
I rescheduled once. I was scared, partly, but also flying two days after the would-have-been surgery and that seemed like an awful idea and so then yesterday was the day.
I spent six hours before my appointment hating the dentist, because really, there’s not a lot to love about a dentist and no matter how nice my dentist might be, she’s still a dentist and I can’t figure out the appeal in that or why anyone would want to become a dentist unless they just really, really fucking love torturing people. Dentists are the stuff of nightmares. What sort of person grows up to want to inflict mouth torture on innocent civilians?
Are there children in the world who grow up thinking that being a dentist would be neat? And if there are, what other career fields do they consider? Homicidal maniac? Dog catcher? Waterboarding specialist? Dentists aren’t on the light side, you guys. Them folks are evil, as are their minions, the dental hygienists and dental assistants of the world, ready and eager with that little moisture sucker of doom thing that makes me feel like my mouth has been attached to the end of a blow dryer.
I get why people become doctors of others sorts, but DENTISTS? WHY? What makes someone want to earn their living poking around in someone else’s mouth hole?
And also, why in the FUCK do they ask you how you are when you get there? How do you think I am, asshole? I’M AT THE DENTIST’S OFFICE FOR FUCK’S SAKE, Land of Pain & Misery and condemnation of my irregular flossing habits. I’m not here for anything fun, ever. I’m here so you, devil shit that you are, can clean my teeth so ferociously that I hurt for 8 hours afterwards, so you can numb one side of my face so I spend the rest of the day determined I’m drooling. I’m here for a tooth removal, bitches. It ain’t a good day.
Of course I didn’t say all that, but I thought it really, really hard.
And then, when it was over and done and not as bad as I thought it would be, EXCEPT FOR THE PART WHERE I SAW PLIERS NEAR MY FACE, the billing lady asked me how I was.
I get it. It’s the way we communicate. We don’t really want to know the answer, but when I’ve just spent an hour in the dentist’s chair being poked with needles and harassed with pliers, asking me how I’m doing is a dangerous sort of thing.
At the end of it, when a dental demon showed me my removed wisdom tooth, I realized how unfair this growing up thing is. As kids we got money for the teeth we lost. It was exciting. I’d spend days poking at the loose tooth with my tongue, just waiting for it to fall out so I could tuck it under my pillow and get whatever the Tooth Fairy would give me for the silly tooth.
As an adult, it’s nothing like that. I stress and worry about the tooth for a week beforehand and then, when it’s taken from my head, I have to pay for its removal and the pain that’s been inflicted on me.
Growing up is bullshit and I miss the Tooth Fairy.