Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Losing My Wisdom

I was 8 years old, sitting in the basement staring at my 18 year old sister who was laying on the couch, moaning, face surrounded by a huge ice pack, cheeks puffy, and blood dribbling out of her mouth. It was in that moment that I decided I NEVER wanted to have my wisdom teeth pulled. So imagine my excitement when all throughout my dentist appointments in high school, they took x-rays and told me that my wisdom teeth weren't coming in. They weren't causing problems and if they did decide to come in, there would be room for them. Victory!! ... Or so I thought. My very first trip to a dentist back in Provo in september, and ohhh lookie there, these wisdom teeth are messing up your mouth and need to come out pronto. Say whaaat?

So now, here I am, shaking in my boots because in 3 hours i'll get put under and they're gonna dig these impacted puppies out of there. I've done the whole surgery thing a couple of times now, so its not the procedure that i'm scared of. Its the after part. The pain. I have an irrational belief that my story is going to play out just like my big sister's. I'll be completely miserable, unable to function for days. Then i'm going to get dry socket and endure even more excruciating pain. Its funny that her situation is the only one I reference, since I have seen my 2 brothers fly through the experience flawlessly, i've taken ice cream to plenty of friends who did great, and in the last few weeks I have had several people tell me their happy success stories. But Kirstin, the mental image of you and your quivering bloody chin will not leave me alone.

Plus there is the whole thing about it being the day before Thanksgiving. Great planning right? Mashed potatoes and pie for me!!!

Wish me luck friends. I'm hoping in a few days i'll be able to share a great success story rather than a horror story with y'all.


1 comment:

  1. Uncle CraigNovember 24, 2011 at 2:52 PM

    Jannette,

    Your pa just told me about your blog. Hope you made it thru the ordeal ok... I remember when your Dad had his wisdom teeth pulled...what a wimp! On the other end of the spectrum, the Pinkston twins in my seminary class, a couple of strapping football players, ran a marathon the day after! The narcotics must have helped...

    Your Dad came home that day and was very strung out from the anesthesia. I snuck in his room and started to talk to him. Boy was it fun. I would say things like, "it's going to be ok, Scott." And he'd cry and say "okaaay," whimpering and crying. He wasn't even conscious, really, I kept messing with him, seeing how many times I could make him cry. It was like making suggestions to someone under hypnosis. Hilarious!! I may have even recorded it for him to play it back for him later. Nothin' like a little brotherly love!

    Thankfully, when my day came to yank 'em out, he was long gone on his mission, so no pay back!

    Hang in there, Uncle Craig

    ReplyDelete

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)