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The Ordinariness of Wisdom Teeth
Tuesday, May 22nd, 2012 07:36 pmAlrighty!!!
So I promised you all a blog post on my experience in getting my wisdom teeth out, didn’t I? Well…here it is!!
First of all, I initially had absolutely no idea that the very, very, very, very painful sensation in the back of my mouth was because of my wisdom teeth. Heck, I didn’t even know that I had wisdom teeth to begin with! Now isn’t that sad? Or, err…funny.
But the pain was terribly intense. It was in the back of my mouth, right in my gum. Originally, I had thought that I’d accidentally banged my toothbrush back there. But it hurt so terribly and it went on for a few days at most, then receded back. It felt like someone was taking a huge, jagged piece of glass and pushing it into the back of my gums. Sometimes I would wake up at 3 o’clock in the morning because I was in so much pain.
And then, of course, I suffered from infection in my throat and ears. The back of my gum was bleeding continually, and that excessive bleeding contributed to a lot of bacteria growth. At first I tried to use cough drops (they worked like a charm…for an hour) and I would feel a little sick when I could hear a crinkling in my left ear. *shudders*
I figured that there was something else going on.
So I told my mom and she was a bit skeptical that my toothbrush just hadn’t slipped. But either way, we went to our family practitioner…
…And indeed, I did have an infection. Luckily, my tonsils were perfectly safe; it was really just the back of my throat and, by my canal, parts of my ear. Our doctor prescribed me some antibiotics and Ibuprofen that I had to be Wonder Woman to swallow and concluded that it was actually my back tooth that was pushing into my gum. So, she also referred me to a dentist.
Now, my mother and I ended up going back to the dental practice that we had always gone to when my sister and I were children. Sadly, our dentist (heck, he was pretty much the dentist for our whole small town) had died a few years before. We had all felt pretty close to him; this was a guy that had taken care of my mother, sister, and me for as long as we could remember. And he’d taken care of us well.
When we pulled into the driveway, we could almost feel a bit of a somber atmosphere; it was kind of out of tune with the sunny day. But then again, the parking lot was mostly empty, so there’s that. And my mom, for the record, wasn’t too happy; we had no idea who this new dentist was nor if he/she was good. In turn, I was anxious because I just wanted the pain in my mouth to go away and I really didn’t want to deal with a dentists that had no idea what they were doing.
Mom went inside…
…And came back out with a huge smile on her face.
It turned out that the dental practice was closed on Fridays, which was, incidentally, the day we went. But the very dentist herself literally just waved us inside with a firm, but cheery “Come on in!” In addition to that, she was the only person there besides an electrician that was working on the computers or something else. Ooohhh…that won some points with my mom and me.
Scratch that. A lot of points. And, of course, it made me feel hopeful and elated; I was getting just that much closer to getting rid of the pain in my mouth!
So the new dentist talked to my mother and I, and got our medical history, our experiences, what kind of dental insurance we had, etc. Because the dentist was alone, there was no secretarial/assistant staff. Therefore, she had to-and did-set up our appointment. She took a look in my mouth (I never stop feeling awkward when they sit you in the examining chair and the push you all the way back and turn on the overhead light…).
Now, mind you: she put on gloves. And a mask. Remember that, my friends…remember those details.
She concluded that the problem, in fact, was that my wisdom teeth were steadily pushing into my gums. As my gums weren’t large/long enough to accommodate such a space, my teeth were pushing back to make space for themselves. Cue the bleeding and the infection.
In addition to that, she wanted me to get my teeth cleaned after I had my surgery. I kid you all not that I hadn’t had my teeth cleaned since…high school. Maybe even earlier. *ducks down head in oral-health-and-hygiene shame* v.v
My mother and I did not feel that the bedside manner was honed well. In fact, we didn’t feel like the skill was there at all. The smiles from behind the receptionists’ desk were plastic. The tones were brisk and curt. We waited for possibly three hours before we were finally seen by the surgeon. Maybe the assistant smiled when she took an x-ray of my teeth.
I think the worst part was when we were in the examination room and the assistant was gathering our information; she straightened up from her position over her clipboard, pointed to my mother and asked, “Amarie, who is this with you?” I answered her and, without so much as looking at my mother, she went back to writing down in her clipboard.
No hello. No wave. No smile. Not even the courtesy not to point.
And my mother became the Frost Goddess that we know her as when she’s Pissed and Uncomfortable. And then (after several hours of waiting, mind you), the dental surgeon finally came in. He looked into my mouth. Sans gloves. Sans mask.
Negative double points for my mom. And a whole lot of awkwardness for me as she seethed from her chair and the assistants carried on like there wasn’t a care in the world.
But…I really liked my oral surgeon otherwise. He came in and shook both mine and my mother’s hand. He introduced himself, smiled at us, cracked a few jokes and then got on with the program. After looking at my x-ray, he smiled and said, “Okay. I’ve got good news and bad news.” Of course, I said I wanted the bad news first. The bad news was that I, indeed, needed to get my wisdom teeth taken out; they were pushing into my gums and it would only be a few years before I could possibly have irreversible damage. The good news was that I only had three of them.
Still, another assistant came in and actually started small talk with us. Heck, she even patted my shoulder as we left.
So, then! My mother and I went home. I had to rinse my mouth out using the worst oral rinse you’ve ever tasted so that my risk of infection during surgery was lowered. Seriously; at first, I thought fresh, hot asphalt would have tasted better. Ironically, when you rinsed your mouth out with water right after, the taste only got worse. But, the good news was that as I continued to use it, it just began to taste like really, really strong mint.
The morning of my surgery dawned bright and early. Since my mother and I were the first ones there, we didn’t have to wait very long at all. Which…didn’t help my nerves very much, to be honest. I hadn’t been very nervous when I thought about getting my wisdom teeth pulled, but when the time came closer and closer, my agitation grew quite a bit.
However, I found that there was nothing to worry about. The assistants were actually…nice. And warm. And patient. The one who had rudely pointed at my mother smiled and asked me twice if I needed to go to the bathroom before we started. I didn’t, and we went to the back to Room 1. I was made to lie down on the examination table. The rest of what happened made ‘Holy Shit, get me out of here!!!’ ring through my head. They wrapped me from the chest down in a thick, wool blanket. Put a timed blood pressure cuff on me. Hooked me up to an IV. Put a white, wrap-around thingy up my nose and I’m proud of my vocabulary there. Put that thingy on my finger that measures how much oxygen is in my blood (again, I’m proud of my vocabulary, so leave me alone).
But…
It honestly wasn’t all that bad because the assistant that had patted my arm was in the room with me. The entire time that she set me up for my surgery, she spoke to me. Heck, we even got on the subject of pedicures and manicures.
And so when the doctor came out, kindly started small talk with me, and injected me with that which would make me go to sleep…I was perfectly alright.
When I next woke up, my mom was either helping me from the car or strapping my seat belt on for me (for the life of me, I honestly can’t remember) and then I was in my bed. I think I woke up around 4:30, which meant that I was pretty much sleeping all day. I was a little sore, I couldn’t talk, and I didn’t eat any solid foods.
And, well…I was perfectly alright again, haha! By the next day, I could slowly eat solids and I honestly didn’t have any pain; just a mild soreness. When I opened my mouth wide in front of a mirror, all I could see was nice, pink, health gum in the back. I didn’t even bleed all that much, and you can imagine how much that was a relief.
So…my wisdom teeth were taken out and I’m still here, alive and kicking!
Has anyone else gotten their wisdom teeth taken out? :D
So I promised you all a blog post on my experience in getting my wisdom teeth out, didn’t I? Well…here it is!!
First of all, I initially had absolutely no idea that the very, very, very, very painful sensation in the back of my mouth was because of my wisdom teeth. Heck, I didn’t even know that I had wisdom teeth to begin with! Now isn’t that sad? Or, err…funny.
But the pain was terribly intense. It was in the back of my mouth, right in my gum. Originally, I had thought that I’d accidentally banged my toothbrush back there. But it hurt so terribly and it went on for a few days at most, then receded back. It felt like someone was taking a huge, jagged piece of glass and pushing it into the back of my gums. Sometimes I would wake up at 3 o’clock in the morning because I was in so much pain.
And then, of course, I suffered from infection in my throat and ears. The back of my gum was bleeding continually, and that excessive bleeding contributed to a lot of bacteria growth. At first I tried to use cough drops (they worked like a charm…for an hour) and I would feel a little sick when I could hear a crinkling in my left ear. *shudders*
I figured that there was something else going on.
So I told my mom and she was a bit skeptical that my toothbrush just hadn’t slipped. But either way, we went to our family practitioner…
…And indeed, I did have an infection. Luckily, my tonsils were perfectly safe; it was really just the back of my throat and, by my canal, parts of my ear. Our doctor prescribed me some antibiotics and Ibuprofen that I had to be Wonder Woman to swallow and concluded that it was actually my back tooth that was pushing into my gum. So, she also referred me to a dentist.
Now, my mother and I ended up going back to the dental practice that we had always gone to when my sister and I were children. Sadly, our dentist (heck, he was pretty much the dentist for our whole small town) had died a few years before. We had all felt pretty close to him; this was a guy that had taken care of my mother, sister, and me for as long as we could remember. And he’d taken care of us well.
When we pulled into the driveway, we could almost feel a bit of a somber atmosphere; it was kind of out of tune with the sunny day. But then again, the parking lot was mostly empty, so there’s that. And my mom, for the record, wasn’t too happy; we had no idea who this new dentist was nor if he/she was good. In turn, I was anxious because I just wanted the pain in my mouth to go away and I really didn’t want to deal with a dentists that had no idea what they were doing.
Mom went inside…
…And came back out with a huge smile on her face.
It turned out that the dental practice was closed on Fridays, which was, incidentally, the day we went. But the very dentist herself literally just waved us inside with a firm, but cheery “Come on in!” In addition to that, she was the only person there besides an electrician that was working on the computers or something else. Ooohhh…that won some points with my mom and me.
Scratch that. A lot of points. And, of course, it made me feel hopeful and elated; I was getting just that much closer to getting rid of the pain in my mouth!
So the new dentist talked to my mother and I, and got our medical history, our experiences, what kind of dental insurance we had, etc. Because the dentist was alone, there was no secretarial/assistant staff. Therefore, she had to-and did-set up our appointment. She took a look in my mouth (I never stop feeling awkward when they sit you in the examining chair and the push you all the way back and turn on the overhead light…).
Now, mind you: she put on gloves. And a mask. Remember that, my friends…remember those details.
She concluded that the problem, in fact, was that my wisdom teeth were steadily pushing into my gums. As my gums weren’t large/long enough to accommodate such a space, my teeth were pushing back to make space for themselves. Cue the bleeding and the infection.
In addition to that, she wanted me to get my teeth cleaned after I had my surgery. I kid you all not that I hadn’t had my teeth cleaned since…high school. Maybe even earlier. *ducks down head in oral-health-and-hygiene shame* v.v
My mother and I did not feel that the bedside manner was honed well. In fact, we didn’t feel like the skill was there at all. The smiles from behind the receptionists’ desk were plastic. The tones were brisk and curt. We waited for possibly three hours before we were finally seen by the surgeon. Maybe the assistant smiled when she took an x-ray of my teeth.
I think the worst part was when we were in the examination room and the assistant was gathering our information; she straightened up from her position over her clipboard, pointed to my mother and asked, “Amarie, who is this with you?” I answered her and, without so much as looking at my mother, she went back to writing down in her clipboard.
No hello. No wave. No smile. Not even the courtesy not to point.
And my mother became the Frost Goddess that we know her as when she’s Pissed and Uncomfortable. And then (after several hours of waiting, mind you), the dental surgeon finally came in. He looked into my mouth. Sans gloves. Sans mask.
Negative double points for my mom. And a whole lot of awkwardness for me as she seethed from her chair and the assistants carried on like there wasn’t a care in the world.
But…I really liked my oral surgeon otherwise. He came in and shook both mine and my mother’s hand. He introduced himself, smiled at us, cracked a few jokes and then got on with the program. After looking at my x-ray, he smiled and said, “Okay. I’ve got good news and bad news.” Of course, I said I wanted the bad news first. The bad news was that I, indeed, needed to get my wisdom teeth taken out; they were pushing into my gums and it would only be a few years before I could possibly have irreversible damage. The good news was that I only had three of them.
Still, another assistant came in and actually started small talk with us. Heck, she even patted my shoulder as we left.
So, then! My mother and I went home. I had to rinse my mouth out using the worst oral rinse you’ve ever tasted so that my risk of infection during surgery was lowered. Seriously; at first, I thought fresh, hot asphalt would have tasted better. Ironically, when you rinsed your mouth out with water right after, the taste only got worse. But, the good news was that as I continued to use it, it just began to taste like really, really strong mint.
The morning of my surgery dawned bright and early. Since my mother and I were the first ones there, we didn’t have to wait very long at all. Which…didn’t help my nerves very much, to be honest. I hadn’t been very nervous when I thought about getting my wisdom teeth pulled, but when the time came closer and closer, my agitation grew quite a bit.
However, I found that there was nothing to worry about. The assistants were actually…nice. And warm. And patient. The one who had rudely pointed at my mother smiled and asked me twice if I needed to go to the bathroom before we started. I didn’t, and we went to the back to Room 1. I was made to lie down on the examination table. The rest of what happened made ‘Holy Shit, get me out of here!!!’ ring through my head. They wrapped me from the chest down in a thick, wool blanket. Put a timed blood pressure cuff on me. Hooked me up to an IV. Put a white, wrap-around thingy up my nose and I’m proud of my vocabulary there. Put that thingy on my finger that measures how much oxygen is in my blood (again, I’m proud of my vocabulary, so leave me alone).
But…
It honestly wasn’t all that bad because the assistant that had patted my arm was in the room with me. The entire time that she set me up for my surgery, she spoke to me. Heck, we even got on the subject of pedicures and manicures.
And so when the doctor came out, kindly started small talk with me, and injected me with that which would make me go to sleep…I was perfectly alright.
When I next woke up, my mom was either helping me from the car or strapping my seat belt on for me (for the life of me, I honestly can’t remember) and then I was in my bed. I think I woke up around 4:30, which meant that I was pretty much sleeping all day. I was a little sore, I couldn’t talk, and I didn’t eat any solid foods.
And, well…I was perfectly alright again, haha! By the next day, I could slowly eat solids and I honestly didn’t have any pain; just a mild soreness. When I opened my mouth wide in front of a mirror, all I could see was nice, pink, health gum in the back. I didn’t even bleed all that much, and you can imagine how much that was a relief.
So…my wisdom teeth were taken out and I’m still here, alive and kicking!
Has anyone else gotten their wisdom teeth taken out? :D
