This past week I had been working fast and furiously to complete a video for a banquet of the establishment for which I work. It had taken us three weeks of pre-production to settle on the final script and get the narration recorded to add video footage to. This was no simple task for a total of 5 five work left before the deadline, but God was good and I had just enough time to make all refinements we could possibly hope to make in time for the banquet.
And the video was a success. The evening’s events at the dinner not too far from American Vision headquarters (where I work) were effective and uplifting to our attendees. I could now relax and turn my mind to another pressing disturbance that had just entered my life—mainly, hours before the banquet I’d been told I was getting my wisdom tooth removed the following morning.
Panic is not what I did, but it was what I wanted to do. I hate dentists and everything teeth. Since the time I was nine and had to get two baby teeth removed to let adult teeth come in, I have never been fond of dentists. Sure, the creep that removed the baby teeth left a horrible impression on me (he was the sort of dentist that didn’t listen to me a bit when I told him the anesthesia wasn’t working) but there was no way ten nice dentists could make up for the one’s mistake.
What’s more is Friday morning when I’d get the tooth removed I’d have to get the removal as surgery and made asleep for the operation with an IV and everything. Apparently, the tooth was at an angle that the only way we were gonna get it out with the least amount of damage to the rest of my mouth was to remove part of my jaw to get to it. Sounds safe, right?
I went into the oral and maxillofacial surgery office trying to imagine life after… It was tough. I’ve never had surgery and I didn’t expect a week ago to have one by this week. This was the only wisdom tooth I had and they had to take it from me. I would probably never even get a chance to see the tooth. Bummer.
After the nurses had poked me with needles, attached me to gizmos, crammed my mouth with a huge rubber jack, used my lap as a work station with tools sprawled out on it, the surgeon, Doctor Nadler, came into the room and briefly glanced over the seen. He asked me if I was comfortable, and if I really wanted to do this… I wish.
Literally, the next thing I remember is waking up from the procedure and being told to walk out and to the car. My wife Liz had to take me home because the drugs wouldn’t wear off for a couple hours. I was in a deep hypnotic state with what the good people that had removed my tooth pumped me up with.
Now, three days later and back to work, I feel great!
No, are you kidding?! It’s gonna take a couple weeks to recover, but believe it or not, I think I will live through this (and much worse). God’s been good to me and I don’t think there are any complications. My mouth is swollen on the one side, and it difficult to do all tasks that pertain to the mouth, but I’m in good health.
If there is anything I got from this experience it would be that I still don’t like anything related to teeth. I still don’t care for dentists. I still don’t want to think about what my mouth has in store for me in the future. You didn’t really think I could learn anything from subjecting myself to bone removal, did you? I did it because I I had already learned many other lessons in life that had brought me to this point. If you’d asked me at nine if I would consent to the wisdom tooth removal, you could forget it.