"Various Adventures In Dental Hygiene" or "My Wisdom Teeth Are Motherfuckers."
Well, this week has been pretty slow in terms of interesting events. I guess that's all well and fine though, as this week is sort of a "Travel Interim Period." Last week I went to Cape Cod with my family, which actually yielded far fewer funny stories than it should have, and next week I'm back in Boston for my friend Adam's "Halfway Up The Hill" Birthday party. And I guess ... oh, wait. Could you excuse me for a minute? I'll be right back. (Passage of Time)
OK. Sorry about that. I'm writing this thing in a store called Lox, Stock, and Bagels in West Hartford. Some guy was making a big scene because the price of his bagel went up to 65 cents, but one of the two signs says it costs 60 cents. I was really having trouble concentrating, and he was ruining my lukewarm coffee experience, so I just put a nickel down on the counter in front of him.
I know, I know. It's kind of nasty of me, but at least the clerks seemed grateful. And of course, after he left, all of the other customers made fun of him. Prissy bitch. Hey, at least I can chalk this up as something interesting that happened to me this week, right? Right. Anyway, where was I?
Oh yes, this week being uneventful. OK, well, even though this week was semi-uneventful, I did manage to learn something about myself. Yesterday, actually. It's kind of surprising, too. I've lived with these guys my whole life, but I just found out yesterday that my wisdom teeth are motherfuckers. That's right: motherfuckers.
I finally got to a dentist yesterday to see just how bad my wisdom teeth actually were. I knew it was going to be bad, but man, I had no idea it would be this bad. I was thinking of something more along the lines of "Irresponsible Highway Driver" or "Foreign Teaching Assistant," but never in my wildest nightmares did I think they would attain the level of "Motherfucker."
Shortly after I sat in what appeared to be some kind of rejected KGB interrogation chair to get my head bombarded with the alluring and mysterious "X-Rays," the dentist slapped up a black and white photograph of my pearly-whites.
"Now," he said, "first of all, I've got to tell you that you've got one of the thinnest jawbones I've ever seen." He pointed to what I thought was a stray piece of hair on the film. Great. My jawbone is about as thick as a mechanical pencil lead. "Just don't go getting into any barfights, or you'll be in the hospital for sure."
Well, I already knew that, but at least know I know the exact area of one of my many casts and splints should I decide to actually participate in a bar fight.
The dentist moved his finger up toward my top row of teeth. "Now these wisdom teeth will have to come out, but the good news is that they should be pretty easy, since they're coming in straight."
Teriffic. The last time I had teeth pulled, I had an out of body experience. Seriously. Now, I usually don't go off on tangents like this ... OK, I do, but this is a story that must be told:
OK, way back in fifth or sixth grade (I don't really remember), I had to get a bunch of teeth pulled so I could be initiated in the nerd ritual of "Braces Application." So I'm sitting in the dentist's chair and he turns on the laughing gas. Cool. So far, so good. Then they put some headphones on me with some hard rock music - not my cup of tea, but what the hell did I care? I was on nitrous. I went to sleep shortly thereafter, and the next thing I remember was flying around the dentist's office. After watching them operate on me for a little bit, I flew into the hallway and into the waiting room, where I saw my parents reading some magazines. Well, that got boring, so I went back into the operating room, but when I went back inside, everything was gone except for this giant skull and all these strobe lights. The skull opened its mouth and I got sucked inside, where I promptly awoke to vomit on the dentist. Serves him right for giving me the LSD Nitrous.
Anyway, it wasn't that bad because I got to have vanilla pudding and watch Star Trek movies on my couch at home. I also got codeine. Lot's and lots of codeine.
The dentist moved his fingers down to my lower wisdom teeth. "Now these," he said, "are probably going to be a little more problematic."
Much like that sitcom friend you let sleep over your house one night only to awake to find him eating all your food and wearing your clothes, my lower wisdom teeth have forsaken the difficult journey upward and instead turned into the space left behind by my previously pulled teeth. They were now running perpendicular to my gums and were making a b-line for my well-behaving molar, which looked none too happy about the whole ordeal.
"These motherfuckers will have to come out, ASAP," said the dentist. Well, he didn't say "motherfuckers," but I certainly did. Internally, at least.
So basically, I now have a potentially excruciating and difficult bout of oral surgery to deal with before I go back to school, and one more shovelful of anxiety to add to my ever-growing, steaming pile. If I survive, I'll make sure to let everyone know.
I will also let you know if I have another hallucination. Until then I'll say, "bring on that delicious codeine nerd pudding!"
This is what my motherfucking wisdom teeth are doing. If I can get my actual X-ray up here, you know I will.