Getting Wisdom Free

Tomorrow marks an important day. Andrew will turn 38 weeks and 4 days. Why on earth is that important you ask? Well he was born at 38 weeks and 4 days so tomorrow he will have been out as long as he was in. I can no longer say I was “just pregnant”, not that I’ve been saying that anyway.

Tomorrow also marks the day that I am getting my wisdom teeth removed. I recall the dental visit before I left for college being one of the first times my dentist told me I needed my teeth taken out. “No thank you” I told him and went on my merry way. Over the last 10 years he continued to harass me until he finally gave up and didn’t even mention it the last time I was there. I had little aches in my teeth now and then but never enough to want to suffer through the removal process. Until last week. Seems that my upper left wisdom tooth has come out crooked to where every time I move my mouth I am literally biting myself in the cheek. Do this for several days with a job that requires talking for nearly 7 hours straight and it makes you kinda want to chop your head off. So I went to my dentist– the only dentist I have ever been to my entire life– and groveled appropriately essentially begging him to remove them right then and there. But of course he couldn’t because they’re so messed up they require an oral surgeon. Fun.

So tomorrow is the big day. And I know almost everyone does this and I know really it’s not that big of a deal and really I’m not even that afraid of the tooth part… it’s the IV that concerns me. I have to be knocked out. Too much work has to be done for me to stay awake and so to sleep I shall go. And this requires an IV to be placed in my arm. And incase you happen to remember, the IV was, for me, the absolute worst part of the entire birthing process. I honestly think the contractions, the pushing and the birthing were a piece of cake compared to getting that IV put in. So if I can make it past that, I think I’ll be okay. But in the mean time I can think of little else.

And I have to add… why on earth do people feel the need to tell you horror stories?
ME: “Hey, I’m getting my wisdom teeth out tomorrow.”
MEANIE 1: “Oh really, my friend’s cousin’s nephew’s neighbor had his teeth out and he died from it” or
MEANIE 2: “Oh yeah I had my teeth out and was in terrible pain for a week.” or just plain
MEANIE 3: “It was horrible”

Who needs to hear that? It’s like telling a pregnant woman that labor is the worst thing in the entire world (which it’s not) when you know full well she has to go through it, there is nothing she can do to prevent it and would prefer not to worry about it until the time comes for it to happen.

I guess what I’m saying is that if you’re going to post your horror story comment, please wait until after 9am tomorrow so I won’t have to read it until after it’s all over 🙂 Thank you!

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