The time has come upon me. The time when the rest of my
precious wisdom teeth are to be removed. Extracted. Operated. Void of my mouth.
To be honest, it’s rather lonely without them in there, waiting to be a part of
their crunching counterparts. I’ve grown up with these pearly whites my entire
life and now, they are no longer to be a part of my life. But they shall be, in
the form of a necklace. Kidding. I am not on bath salts (LSD) and will not be
anytime soon. However, my teeth would look sexy draped around my neck…in a cannibalistic
way.
I already knew the drill (no pun intended) for I have
already had my left side extracted and called the dental assistant a “seeing-eye
dog but who smelt better.” I entered the
operating room, sat in the operating chair, and waited…waited…and waited…. for thirty
minutes before any action regarding my mouth occurred, and I don’t mean
kissing. My mouth would have found quicker action in a bar. I started playing
with the heart rate machine to see how fast and slow I could make my heart beat
just to defeat the boredom.
Suddenly, the surgeon appears in a sweaty hustle, as if he
just manually yanked out his last victim’s teeth. It was the least bit
relieving to see him in such a frantic state. He apologized for being tardy and
claimed he dropped his “bag” midway as he was riding his bike to the office.
Grand. I could tell he wanted these teeth out in a hurry. Next thing I know,
they stuck me with the anesthetic, I leaned my head back, and woke up with two
less teeth.
For the past two days, I have been “recovering”
by watching new releases from beloved Ray’s, Celebrity Ghost Stories, and the
Food Network. Life has been wonderful. Lots of mouthwash, but wonderful
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