Most of my readers can relate to seminal moments in life. For better or for worse, certain eras serve as fundamental rites of passage and cannot be repeated or forgotten. I had such a moment recently.
I had my wisdom teeth removed.
I (and most people) have 4, but I only had half as lucky as my sister who only had to take off her uppers because no one else was around. In her case, the dentist shrugged her shoulders and suggested: [her] Was luck hereditary? ” Apparently I didn’t get her genetic lottery ticket. Of course, there are a select few in this audience who don't have any, but he may have eight or more in this audience.
This whole process began well enough with a routine cleaning and an X-ray set. We were then given a paper that looked good enough and had a short discussion that could be summed up as, “It's time to have Ruth's wisdom teeth removed.” ”
I set the timing to Monday of the summer vacation so that I can lick my wounds and recover for the maximum amount of time without leaving the summer behind. Unlike some surgeries where various creature comforts are considered before the procedure, I was given strict instructions not to give him any food or water beforehand. I have slept.
This was my first time undergoing general anesthesia, so I don't remember much about the surgery. As you may remember, my recovery was initially sudden. I didn't talk much on the way home, but most of my family probably enjoyed it.
In fact, the first few days of my recovery weren't half bad. I ate applesauce and it was fine for a while. It wasn't until the third or fourth day that I needed to take the high-grade painkillers prescribed by my doctor. This painkiller was a small but highly effective pill that began with the letter “O.” And by the fifth day, I started feeling well enough that most of what I had described as trauma started becoming a good story in my mind.
On the bright side, I managed to complete my biggest paper of the semester during that period. I'll never know how much discomfort I would have faced had I not had my wisdom teeth removed, but I like to believe in the saying, “Every cloud has a silver lining.” They always are.
Ruth Wiseman is a Woodland Park native and dual-enrollment high school student attending Pikes Peak State University.