Wisdom teeth
Created | Updated Mar 5, 2008
It's been over 10 years, but the more I think about it, I'm glad that I have a little less wisdom - that is, when I had my wisdom teeth removed.
About a year before I turned 18, my parents had hinted about the surgery and that, because of my minor mouth problems over my life, I would probably have to have the teeth come out. Of course, being as young as I was and healthy, I panicked slightly. I rarely get sick, so it's very disconcerting to hear that you will have an operation - major or minor. It would be my second one, but it had been 11 years since my other operation. That one was for adenoids.
This also came to be when my Mom told me about the procedure itself. The surgery itself didn't sound too bad, especially since Mom said I would be under general anesthesia. I was nervous about this though, because instead of using gas, Mom mentioned they administered the anesthetic through a shot in the crook of my arm. Thing is, I really do not like having shots of any kind administered that way.
That August, Mom set up a time for me to go visit the surgeon's office. If I needed them out - which Mom said would probably happen - they would be taken out there instead of the hospital. Though I am an asthmatic, the surgeon had an anesthesiologist, who was the best person to keep an eye out for my health and well-being while I was sedated.
The day prior to the visit, I had to avoid eating and drinking after midnight, which was not easy, and then spend part of the morning painting school spirit signs (as I was the mascot) before I went to the office. Mom also gave me a gift bag full of get well presents, such as a teddy bear and a Koosh critter that looked like Goofy. Of course, I was still skeptical that I was going to have to have surgery, but Mom only chuckled, as she knew that the odds were against me.
Once we got there, the surgeon looked at my X-rays and confirmed that all had to come out. Three of the four were nearly impacted, and one in particular was weird because it was almost growing horizontally. The sight of my mouth as far as the X-ray was funny... but then I realized that yep, they were going to have to come out.
So, after the doctor told Mom and me to expect in the next half hour or so, and showed a videotape, I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and use the restroom. Before I went to the room where they did the surgery, I asked if I could bring in the Goofy toy, and the doctor agreed, though he told Mom later that I could've brought in the teddy bear if I wanted to. He had a feeling I was nervous about the surgery, so he granted this to help try and alleviate my fears.
Once I got the toy and gave Mom the hug, I walked into the room and sat down in a chair. It looked like the recliner they use for most dentists visits. The differences here were they had a heart monitor and other surgical equiment they use in surgery. After sitting down, the anesthesiologist put a tourniquet on my arm and the nurse placed a device on my finger that checked my heart beat and pulse.
When the anesthetist tapped my arm to get a vein, I knew what was coming next and tensed up, backing up slightly into my chair to try and get away from it. The nurse, seeing my phobia come out and not wanting me to get to the point where they couldn't sedate me or the flipside, that I faint, said to hold her hand. I did and relaxed some, but not totally. Then I felt a slight prick, almost like a mosquito bite. I asked "That's it?" and the doctor chuckled and said it was, to which I said "yea" softly.
Now, the next part was probably one of the odder things about the surgery. Most people will not remember the last few minutes before going under the anesthesia, let alone the last thing. My case, I remember it well, because the doctor first asked, "So, I hear you're the mascot at the high school now?" I answered "Yes, I'm the tiger (at my school)."
He chuckled and said, "Sounds like it'll be fun. I hear your school's won two state championships in a row too," to which I said yes and the sport. The doctor chuckled again, but didn't say anything afterward, which now thinking upon it was because he could tell I was starting to lose consciousness from the anesthesia. The last thing I remember saying was "You know I'm tired," closing my eyes and sighing. Then, everything was black.
Don't know how long I was under, but I do remember when I came to blinking once and realizing that I was now awake. First thing I remember doing is touching my face and finding some weird netting on my face with ice packs. Then I looked at my left arm at the spot where they gave me the shot. I had a bandage there with Sesame Street characters on it.
Turning my head to the right, I saw two nurses in the hall, one of which, seeing I was conscious, gasped slightly and came over asking how I was doing. Instead of saying how I felt, I said slightly muddled, "Would you like to hold Goofy?" and she did.
After seeing both look at the toy, I tried to say something else, only to have the nurse chuckle, "It's OK, but you need to bite down on the gauze in your mouth." At the time, I didn't realize I had gauze in my mouth, but once I did, I complied and then said through clenched teeth, "Sorry," to which she just chuckled and said I was not the first. After a few minutes, the doctor came in to check the guaze in my mouth, and check how coherent I was. Seeing I was all right, albeit tired, he then gave me a few rules on what to do as far as post-op treatment, and then I was taken out in a wheelchair to Mom's car.
That afternoon, I pretty much spent the time taking a nap (thanks to the one painkiller I had to take), watching a little television and taking care of the stitches in my mouth. I also enjoyed watching "I Love Lucy" and "The Red Skelton Show" which were also in my get well bag.
My younger brother and sister, however, really had fun watching me eat yogurt when I got home, mostly because I kept getting it on my face. This was the one other thing I hadn't noticed until after the surgery - they also gave me a couple of shots of Novocain in my mouth as well to make sure I didn't feel any pain while they took my teeth out. Looking on it now too, I realize that they did this because, while the sodium pentathol or other anesthetic will render you unconscious, there's other drugs added to make sure that it's proper anesthesia - lack of pain and awareness.
The next day was easier on me though. I was able to eat soft foods such as fries at McDonald's, which was a pleasant treat given that I was not too fond of yogurt for lunch and supper. The downside was that for the next few days I was not able to drink sodas or other beverages through a straw, as it could cause dry socket from the suction. And, having to rinse my mouth out with salt water yet have to let the water dribble out was not fun, but it did keep me from getting an infection.
After a few days, the only thing that was still there as far as the surgery were the stitches, which would eventually disintigrate when they had finished healing the wounds. The following week, I went back to the surgeon to have my checkup, and he said I was healing very well. The only tangible part of the surgery now are these tiny scars in the back of my mouth and a little dip in the bottom set where the sockets are.
So, while for some wisdom teeth surgery can be seen as a nightmare, I see it as a time of both humor, healing, and lessons.
About a year before I turned 18, my parents had hinted about the surgery and that, because of my minor mouth problems over my life, I would probably have to have the teeth come out. Of course, being as young as I was and healthy, I panicked slightly. I rarely get sick, so it's very disconcerting to hear that you will have an operation - major or minor. It would be my second one, but it had been 11 years since my other operation. That one was for adenoids.
This also came to be when my Mom told me about the procedure itself. The surgery itself didn't sound too bad, especially since Mom said I would be under general anesthesia. I was nervous about this though, because instead of using gas, Mom mentioned they administered the anesthetic through a shot in the crook of my arm. Thing is, I really do not like having shots of any kind administered that way.
That August, Mom set up a time for me to go visit the surgeon's office. If I needed them out - which Mom said would probably happen - they would be taken out there instead of the hospital. Though I am an asthmatic, the surgeon had an anesthesiologist, who was the best person to keep an eye out for my health and well-being while I was sedated.
The day prior to the visit, I had to avoid eating and drinking after midnight, which was not easy, and then spend part of the morning painting school spirit signs (as I was the mascot) before I went to the office. Mom also gave me a gift bag full of get well presents, such as a teddy bear and a Koosh critter that looked like Goofy. Of course, I was still skeptical that I was going to have to have surgery, but Mom only chuckled, as she knew that the odds were against me.
Once we got there, the surgeon looked at my X-rays and confirmed that all had to come out. Three of the four were nearly impacted, and one in particular was weird because it was almost growing horizontally. The sight of my mouth as far as the X-ray was funny... but then I realized that yep, they were going to have to come out.
So, after the doctor told Mom and me to expect in the next half hour or so, and showed a videotape, I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and use the restroom. Before I went to the room where they did the surgery, I asked if I could bring in the Goofy toy, and the doctor agreed, though he told Mom later that I could've brought in the teddy bear if I wanted to. He had a feeling I was nervous about the surgery, so he granted this to help try and alleviate my fears.
Once I got the toy and gave Mom the hug, I walked into the room and sat down in a chair. It looked like the recliner they use for most dentists visits. The differences here were they had a heart monitor and other surgical equiment they use in surgery. After sitting down, the anesthesiologist put a tourniquet on my arm and the nurse placed a device on my finger that checked my heart beat and pulse.
When the anesthetist tapped my arm to get a vein, I knew what was coming next and tensed up, backing up slightly into my chair to try and get away from it. The nurse, seeing my phobia come out and not wanting me to get to the point where they couldn't sedate me or the flipside, that I faint, said to hold her hand. I did and relaxed some, but not totally. Then I felt a slight prick, almost like a mosquito bite. I asked "That's it?" and the doctor chuckled and said it was, to which I said "yea" softly.
Now, the next part was probably one of the odder things about the surgery. Most people will not remember the last few minutes before going under the anesthesia, let alone the last thing. My case, I remember it well, because the doctor first asked, "So, I hear you're the mascot at the high school now?" I answered "Yes, I'm the tiger (at my school)."
He chuckled and said, "Sounds like it'll be fun. I hear your school's won two state championships in a row too," to which I said yes and the sport. The doctor chuckled again, but didn't say anything afterward, which now thinking upon it was because he could tell I was starting to lose consciousness from the anesthesia. The last thing I remember saying was "You know I'm tired," closing my eyes and sighing. Then, everything was black.
Don't know how long I was under, but I do remember when I came to blinking once and realizing that I was now awake. First thing I remember doing is touching my face and finding some weird netting on my face with ice packs. Then I looked at my left arm at the spot where they gave me the shot. I had a bandage there with Sesame Street characters on it.
Turning my head to the right, I saw two nurses in the hall, one of which, seeing I was conscious, gasped slightly and came over asking how I was doing. Instead of saying how I felt, I said slightly muddled, "Would you like to hold Goofy?" and she did.
After seeing both look at the toy, I tried to say something else, only to have the nurse chuckle, "It's OK, but you need to bite down on the gauze in your mouth." At the time, I didn't realize I had gauze in my mouth, but once I did, I complied and then said through clenched teeth, "Sorry," to which she just chuckled and said I was not the first. After a few minutes, the doctor came in to check the guaze in my mouth, and check how coherent I was. Seeing I was all right, albeit tired, he then gave me a few rules on what to do as far as post-op treatment, and then I was taken out in a wheelchair to Mom's car.
That afternoon, I pretty much spent the time taking a nap (thanks to the one painkiller I had to take), watching a little television and taking care of the stitches in my mouth. I also enjoyed watching "I Love Lucy" and "The Red Skelton Show" which were also in my get well bag.
My younger brother and sister, however, really had fun watching me eat yogurt when I got home, mostly because I kept getting it on my face. This was the one other thing I hadn't noticed until after the surgery - they also gave me a couple of shots of Novocain in my mouth as well to make sure I didn't feel any pain while they took my teeth out. Looking on it now too, I realize that they did this because, while the sodium pentathol or other anesthetic will render you unconscious, there's other drugs added to make sure that it's proper anesthesia - lack of pain and awareness.
The next day was easier on me though. I was able to eat soft foods such as fries at McDonald's, which was a pleasant treat given that I was not too fond of yogurt for lunch and supper. The downside was that for the next few days I was not able to drink sodas or other beverages through a straw, as it could cause dry socket from the suction. And, having to rinse my mouth out with salt water yet have to let the water dribble out was not fun, but it did keep me from getting an infection.
After a few days, the only thing that was still there as far as the surgery were the stitches, which would eventually disintigrate when they had finished healing the wounds. The following week, I went back to the surgeon to have my checkup, and he said I was healing very well. The only tangible part of the surgery now are these tiny scars in the back of my mouth and a little dip in the bottom set where the sockets are.
So, while for some wisdom teeth surgery can be seen as a nightmare, I see it as a time of both humor, healing, and lessons.
