Can you feel it now?

At 30 years old I got my wisdom teeth removed. Alright, not quite 30, but painfully close.

Speaking of pain....

Whoever contrived the idea that these little white pearls of wisdom should be ripped from my head in an unceremonious display of blood and tissue, was one hell of a bastard. I stand by previous statement (Many times over) that they weren't bothering me and it would be more of a hassle to get them removed rather than live with them. Okay, so they were a little hard to reach, but thanks to my incredibly healthy oral hygiene habits and my penchant big toothy grins, I think I had mastered the living with them part quite well.

However, at the strong urging of my dentist (and everyone who knows me is fully aware that I happen to be in love with the dentist. I love getting my teeth cleaned, I love flossing, I love that horrible thing sprays water down your throat despite the high suction thing they accompany it with.) I decided to go ahead and have those babies removed.

Now, I, like most people, assumed that my wisdom teeth removal would be accompanied by that fabulous little friend of mine, an IV full of drugs. I would cruise through the procedure in a half awake state filled with sparkly bursts of light and perhaps a unicorn or two. Because of numerous things, I can't be put completely asleep, but I was assured at my scheduling that I would be put into "twilight." Well, seeing as I'm staunchly team Jacob, I could get on board with this whole "twilight" concept. I showed up to my appointment rocking my favorite wolf adorned t-shirt and an old pair of sweatpants. I was shown to my chair with my rather little, but highly attractive, oral surgeon who was humming along to Colbie Calliet with his cute, equally little, and shit talking assistant bustling around us both.

Lying there, I notice an utter lack of anything resembling the promised IV, I immediately, still in my right mind after all, inquire about when they will be sedating me. They look at each other without saying a word. "We don't do that at this office." the assistant says, looking at me to see if there's going to be a big reaction, "we find it unnecessary." She smiles. The Dr. leans over me, "Don't worry, we fill you up with Novocain, you won't feel a thing!" He smiles. I ponder this. I'm already here, there will be numbing, and my Dr. looks awfully cute in those tiny scrubs...

Roughly 20 minutes later, after I am all numbed up and my face feels like I grew a whole other head, the Dr. reaches in with his pointy little scalpel and asks me if I can feel, "this" at which point he jams the scalpel into my gums and slices them over. "YES!" I cry, "I can feel that, I can feel that!" The Dr. and the assistant exchange looks, then he proceeds to shoot me with more Novocain, and repeats the same exercise. I can still feel it, but not as bad, so I say I'm fine, assuming by the time they actually do anything I'll be completely numb.

Here's my offer of advice. If you can still feel it when they cut your gums open, then you will be able to feel it when they cut your teeth in half with the electric Hi-Speed drill and crack them away from your jaw bone. You'll be able to feel the entire thing, and no matter how much your cry out, "I can feel it, please, I can feel it!" and they shoot you with more Novocain, it's not going to make a difference. So you will lay there, with tears streaming down your face while you feel every single minute of your wisdom teeth removal. You may emerge from your surgery shaking and crying have experienced probably the most traumatic 1 hour of your entire life.

Now, I do not blame the Dr., how could he possibly have known that it wouldn't work on me, and I do not blame the office, because they've done this hundreds of times and probably very rarely encounter this problem. But I will say that if you are not guaranteed to be put under, do not get your wisdom teeth removed.

Now, packed with ice and unable to eat anything, I'm going to take three of these fabulous little pills and pass out.