A word from the wise

I kept my teeth and I don't know why

There are a lot of things I didn’t do in high school. I didn’t have sex, I didn’t smoke, I didn’t play a sport because “dance” was my sport. And hyperventilation. Another thing I didn’t do was get my wisdom teeth removed. All of my friends were getting them out. They had funny videos coming down off anesthesia, they got to eat ice cream for a week, they looked swollen but it was for a cool reason. A rite of passage. But I’ve always been concerned with being different. Being not like other girls. So of course I was special enough that my wisdom teeth were growing in straight. They didn’t need to come out. This was a relief to an anxious 18 year old me. The thought of being under anesthesia was as scary as the thought of not getting into Penn ED. Oops.

Two weeks ago, I woke up with a throbbing toothache. This is it, I thought, I am pregnant. That, or I have mouth cancer. I’ve never had a cavity, let alone a toothache, so this must mean something bad was happening. I went to the dentist 2 days later (did you know that you don’t have to wait 3 months to see them if you just tell them your tooth hurts) and he told me I had my first cavity of my life, on my wisdom tooth. The lower left one or from the point of view of a future lover, lower right. He told me I should get this tooth out, and while I was at it should remove all 4. I called my mom, told her I would be coming to Maryland for this ordeal, and called her oral surgeon to book a consultation.

Two weeks later, I’m on day three with no wisdom teeth. There are huge holes in my mouth that I get to clean out with a syringe full of water if food debris gets stuck, sort of like a Victoria’s Secret Angel. This has been the sexiest experience of my life. They gave me the drug that killed Michael Jackson but at a lower dose so I just fell asleep for 30 minutes. Luckily I’m not swollen or bruised at all, just insufferable in the normal ways. All I’ve eaten is yogurt, broth, pudding, and leftover pouches of baby food from when I hung out with my 1 year old cousin last weekend. He ate his strawberry banana pouch while shitting in his pants at the table, but apparently I was told I couldn’t do that. Another example of sexism in our society but I won’t get into it.

I love doctors. My experience Monday morning was magical. I am grateful to be on my mother’s health insurance for one more blissful year, after which I will get a job at Deloitte I guess. Maybe a startup where instead of healthcare they’ll tie my wisdom tooth to a ping pong ball in the rec room and hope for the best. I walked into the waiting room and was greeted by the nicest people. A woman named Nicole brought me into the room where she asked me my height and weight. She put on a blood pressure cuff, 3 ekg monitors, a pulse oximeter, and safety goggles. So the surgeon knew I was cool as fuck. 

The next thing I know, I was being woken up. My mom pulled the car around and I was brought down in a wheelchair, again, maybe I really was pregnant. This whole experience was made tolerable by people who cared about me, both paid doctors and unpaid interns. That’s what I call my mom.

Coming down off the anesthesia in the car I told my mom how badly I wanted a baby. I realize I need my own health insurance before I can have a dependent.

The best thing I ate this week:

Was bone broth (thank you Lizzie). I will eat a tortilla chip in 2023.