Tomorrow, an oral surgeon will be ripping my wisdom teeth from my skull.
I’ve been putting this off for over five years, and my fear of surgery is now bordering on pathological. I know I’m being a wuss, but I’ve never had any kind of surgery. I’ve never been sedated in my life. And since I’m a textbook type-A control freak, the idea of being knocked out for an hour while someone drills into my head with power tools is just a little terrifying. It’s not the pain that scares me. It almost seems more appealing to stay awake for the surgery. Almost.
Last Thursday I went in for a consultation. I ended up waiting in the scary little room staring at the x-rays that had doomed me for 45 minutes. I could hear the oral surgeon loudly consulting with the man in the next room. Apparently, he was about 100 years old with a 215/95 blood pressure. They canceled his surgery and called an ambulance because the doctor was convinced he was about to suffer a stroke. I hope he’s okay, and it seems they caught his symptoms early enough that they would be able to treat him, but seriously? Why did I have to end up in the room next to the guy who left the office in an ambulance? I could just picture myself being carted away in a speeding ambulance due to my rare but life-threatening complications.
When the doctor finally came in to talk to me, he spent 20 minutes telling me about risks and possible complications and explaining stitches in my gums and dry sockets and nerve damage. I couldn’t help but think this whole wisdom teeth removal thing was just a bad idea. Those teeth aren’t hurting anything. They’ve been there for years. The only reason I’m removing the things is because my dentist has been telling me to do it for five years.
But this is the responsible thing to do. We don’t know if we’ll continue our dental coverage when we move since we’ll be paying so much for health insurance already, so we’re trying to get any potential problems out of the way now. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I had some serious doubts when I saw my estimated bill, though. Let’s just say, I can think of a million other things I’d rather do with my weekend and my money than have teeth ripped from my skull.
When I got home, I broke my number one rule when it comes to medical care: I Googled my condition. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Google searching any symptom or medical condition, it’s that Google only gives you one prognosis: IMMINENT DEATH.
Sniffles? You’re suffering a rare strain of the flu that will kill you. Headaches? Rush to an emergency room immediately before that aneurism kills you. Mosquito bite? YOU HAVE WEST NILE VIRUS, AND YOU ARE GOING TO DIE.
So I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when I found this.
All of this is to say, I won’t be around this weekend as I recover, and I might not get back to regular posting until Tuesday or Wednesday. I want to try to get some writing done this weekend, but I have no idea how out of it I’ll be. Wish me luck and strength to stop being a wimp.