So last month I went in for a routine teeth cleaning. And something turned up on my x-rays. “A root, is what it looks like,” said my very naive dental practitioner. She gave me a referral to my oral surgeon who did my wisdom teeth because it looked like it was left behind from that surgery. Little did she know.
I go in for a consultation with the oral surgeon and when he sees the x-rays immediately recongnizes it is not a root, but an entire tooth fragment. “No big deal,” he says, “we’ll just go in there and get it out.” So I schedule the appointment.
I went in today expecting the ordeal to last less than ten minutes, because it took them a total of 20 minutes to remove all wisdom teeth and stitch me up. This is also the reason I refused general anesthesia. Going under for a 5 minute procedure? Not this girl.
I wasn’t really worried until the Doctor started to sweat. And I don’t just mean that he looked misty, I’m talking he started to drip. I was afraid some was going to get on me and I was going to flip the hell out on him. Thankfully, he kept it to his scrubs and the insides of his eye glasses. There were times when he literally was pushing his weight onto this freaking piece of tooth that had started to become hidden because bone was starting to grow over it. Nice one, Doctor.
After literally 30 straight minutes of pushing and pulling and drilling and twisting, the damn thing came loose. I’ve never been so happy to see a stitching needle.
All that to say they told me that even though it was a fragment, they had basically done a full extraction, and to treat it as such. Hence I am now loaded up with giant tylenol and mashed potatoes, just like after my first pull. Needless to say, Nicole will have to drive me to Glendora at 5 am tomorrow for my internship orientation. Yay.
Modern dentistry is a crock.
This is me, trying to roll my eyes with a cold compress on my face.
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