On Monday, after enduring five years of discomfort, I finally made the jump and consented to having my last wisdom tooth removed. The first two and I had parted ways when I was 10 years old in a procedure that featured the removal of 7 other teeth (yes, for a total of 9) and left me forever reluctant to see a dentist, let alone a dental surgeon, again.
I lost wisdom tooth number 3 in 2001 when I was living in Nebraska. Other than the fact that I drove myself home after the procedure, I don't have any memories of the removal. On Monday the last tooth and I finally parted ways. It had been aching for years and I had delayed removal based on the ill-advised theory that the pain you know is worse than the pain you don't. The impetus to finally have the tooth extracted was the on-going discomfort it caused and the fact that it was a hulking behemoth of a tooth intent on destroying other teeth in the neighborhood……not a good arrangement, my dentist assured me.
Though I knew it had to go, I was terrified. No one likes dental surgery - least of all me - and in my case fear of the surgery was compounded by the fact that the procedure would require me to be down for the count, however temporary. I've an irrational fear of being temporarily disabled, a fear magnified when I became a single mama. I know that I can ask others for help, and I sometimes do, but I much prefer a world in which I am functioning.
Enter T, whose presence in my life persuaded me that being temporarily out of commission wasn't a disaster. She drove me to the surgery (ignoring my appeals that we instead go shopping at the Tractor Supply Store), carried me home afterward, and served me the soft and bland cuisine the newly wisdom-toothless are permitted to enjoy. In short, she made a difficult procedure utterly endurable, allowing me to face my fears and laugh at myself in the process.
That's a tall order. Out of the experience, I've learned a few more lessons in pursuit of the age-old wisdom that a burden shared is a burden halved. I've been reminded of the power of laughter and sympathy and why it is that two is more powerful than one. The tooth is gone. And better yet, I gained a lot in the process.
1 comment:
When I had my wisdom teeth pulled a few years ago, Colby just laughed continuously at me when I came out of anesthesia. Then he made constant fun of me and my inability to eat solid foods. Then he would say shit like, "Looks like someone needs her vicodin," as soon as I got irritated with him. I guess in my house a burden shared is the source of ridicule.
Post a Comment