Trips to the dentist can be rarely classified as happy memories. I have had many experiences on that ominous mechanised chair, but few match the gory nature of the one which follows in the coming lines. Read further if you don't mind it getting a little disgusting at times, but then I have spiced it up enough to make it entertaining.
There are a few things, looking at which, you can't help but ask yourself the question - "What is the reason for its existence?" A Wisdom tooth is definitely one of them. What's the wisdom behind having a tooth which serves no real purpose but adds to your agony (not always though in most cases)! To top it all, you don't have one, but four whole wisdom teeth. Besides, a completely unrelated query comes to my head when I write this. Does any one know why it is called a 'wisdom' tooth out of all things?
Mine too had been contributing to my share of problems. Mine was indented beyond repair, so it left my dear dentist with no option but to extract it. The appointment was fixed with a dental surgeon. She had a nice name, and a nicer voice, so I thought a pretty doctor won't do any harm when your stuck in a mess.
Fast forward. I am sitting on the dentist chair. I see this extremely stern looking yet dignified post-menopausal lady who has just told me "Don't shake. It'll just prick a little" with a long metallic syringe in her right hand. Just another injection I thought, can't hurt so much. She gave one prick, another a few milliseconds later and one more after that. I began to wonder if it was only the tooth she was extracting or was there more to it. She proved the latter right in a way, but my pat interruption and clarification prevented her from extracting the upper tooth as well. In the meanwhile, my cheek and lips had begun to grow heavy and numb.
She said "Just sit back and relax now." I wouldn't have minded this coming from a masseur, but when a dentist says this, you should know what's coming. She took up a swab dipped in some terrible smelling tincture that smelled like a mix of a disinfectant and urine and cleaned, or should I say, mopped my mouth. More swabs followed later, albeit this time, without the stenchful liquid, and completely choked the little movement of my tongue which was possible.
I didn't realise that what would follow was a lot worse. The primary tool (call it weapon) was a drill-like device which made a loud buzzing noise. She put it in my mouth, and all I could sense was it vibrating violently and making screeching noises. I wonder what would it had been without the anaesthesia and really didn't mind the needle punctures.
Showing the typical stubbornness of a Taurean, my tooth refused to cooperate and I felt she had to take extreme measures. Following the Divide and Rule policy, she kept taking out pieces of my tooth every now and then. The root was especially tough and at one point, the drill bit just got stuck and popped out of the motored unit. Seeing something like a screw driver stuck in your mouth can give any normal person the heebie-jeebies. She manoeuvred the bit out in sometime and decided to use something like forceps to dig the remain portions out.
It was over at last I thought, but alas, I was so wrong. A needle and thread and some dexterous suturing followed. It wasn't all that painful considering what I had gone through but then I always feel that stitching is meant for clothes.
In the end, she added more instructions: "You will have to bite and hold this swab in your mouth for an hour till the bleeding stops completely. Apply ice intermittently. Your face is likely to swell. You can't eat solid food today at least, though cold milkshakes and ice-creams are allowed." If she hadn't said that last bit, I would have felt a lot worse, being a complete foodie.
I know death is painful, but I really pray I don't end my journey the way my wisdom tooth did. May it rest in pieces and let me be at peace.