I had my molar yanked out on Sunday. They sugar-coat it and say “oral surgery”, but really it’s just good ol’ yanking. With some really good anesthesia of course.
Oh how I love anesthesia.
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After we were done, the dentist asked me if I wanted to see my tooth. Sure, I said. What else are you supposed to say?
Lesson learned. Always say no.
Blood and gums. Massacre of the Tooth. Every time my cheek hurts, the image of my bloody tooth flashes before me.
“Would you like to take your tooth home, hun?” the dentist’s assistant said as she lifted up my tooth, gums and all. “You could get it encased in silver and wear it around your neck!” She waved the thing in my face and showed me her silver tooth necklace.
“Er, I’m not much of a jewelry person. Thanks.” I said (okay, tried to say with a cotton ball in my mouth). With my head all loopy, I remember briefly wondering if she was the tooth fairy. Now, I’m starting to wonder if it was really her tooth or if she just collects them for fun. You think mine is in a drawer somewhere in her house? Patient 225: Bottom left molar.
Nah. She probably made earrings.
I went to work yesterday looking like my face grew another face. The whole being an adult thing doesn’t let me stay at home on the grounds of “No way in hell am I stepping out looking like this!”. Sigh.