The Friday before last, I had my wisdom teeth removed. Let me document the trials that I had to go through.
A few years ago, the dentist mentioned that I might have to get my wisdom teeth removed sometime in the future. So when I went to India two years ago, I was taken to the dentist. It’s a lot cheaper there, of course. The old guy almost went into a coma. My dad asked him to see if he could extract my teeth, but to his professional horror, he found no signs of my teeth even emerging from their slumber.
I went to get my teeth examined at the beginning of the summer and my dentist voiced his opinion. My teeth were trolling me. The bottom two were almost horizontal, somewhat like battering rams waiting to break down the enamel of my molars. The top two looked benign, but they would supposedly graze against my gums and cause problems later. A friend of mine is having trouble with a similar prophecy about the grazing coming to fruition.
I had an initial checkup a few weeks ago and originally had the surgery scheduled for that Friday. However, it conflicted with Intern Day at my internship. No way I was going to miss that. I rescheduled for two weeks later.
They prescribe a three types of medicine, including a voluntary-use painkiller, and some non-Listerine mouth wash. I had to start the regimen the night before. I think I missed taking a pill for reducing anxiety or something. No biggie though. I was excited about the surgery.
They laid me on one of those long chairs and IVed me some electrolytes. Then, they switched to the anesthetic. I wondered how long it would take for it to act. That’s the last thing I remember. Next thing, I’m in the recovery room, dazed and confused. I felt a certain puffiness in my mouth but couldn’t feel anything. The nurse kept asking me if I needed to stay for a few more minutes. When I finally felt the courtesy to leave, I walked to the car. I was helped by the nurse, of course. Falling down and breaking my teeth would be counterproductive. The whole procedure took a little more than an hour. I had no clue what happened during that time. Others say they were awake while their teeth were being pulled out. That would be one of the weirdest hours of your life.
I came home and lay on the bed for four hours. Every half an hour, I changed the gauze that was stuck in the raw sockets. For the first hour or two, I couldn’t feel anything in my mouth. Then the pain rose and fell like a perverse sine wave. Blood was just waiting to gush out. I finally got fed up with gauze, went downstairs, and played video games for the rest of the night. I surely deserved it.
I ate soft stuff like bananas for the next day or two. Then, I started eating regular food. I wasn’t obeying the diet restrictions strictly. Even after a week, it is still sore. Chewing with my molars has become more tolerable. I’d say I’ll be back to normal in a few weeks.
I wouldn’t recommend the experience, to be honest. There is a lot of pain and blood. I would have thought the bleeding would have been less with modern medicine. At least my gums will thank me.