dianaschnuth

When I started telling people I was getting my wisdom teeth removed, it seemed like everyone had a story. Some people gave me good advice and helpful tips; others just told me their horror stories (presumably in the hopes that my experience couldn’t possibly be that bad). Probably 75% of everyone’s horror stories ended with, “And then I got dry socket,” which, of course, prompted me to do some Google research, which freaked me out even more.

It was bad enough that I only had a week to prepare — or, come to think of it, maybe that was a good thing. I’d made the appointment immediately after my drill-n-fill the previous Friday — one filling on each side, so my entire jaw was numb (for five hours). I had NOT expected the nice cashier to say, “We have some openings next Friday…”

I had so many questions, but barely managed to enunciate my most important one: “Will I need someone to drive me home?” The cashier had assured me that, no, I wouldn’t be sedated. The procedure would be done under local anesthetic, “just like today!”

Everyone has a wisdom tooth story; now I have one, too. And, as my mother would say, it’s a lot of words.
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