A humorous look at the wisdom teeth experience 

By Grace Hachey

Today is the day. The day you have been dreading. Your wisdom teeth are coming out. This was very unexpected. You went to the dentist for routine cleaning. And what did they tell you? They told you that if you want to avoid a lifetime of pain and suffering, you need your wisdom removed. 

You’re standing at the front desk while your mom chats with the receptionist and schedules the horrific appointment. You’re trying to make a face that says NO THANK YOU, but she must not see it because the next thing you know you’re waking up on that dreaded day. 

You put on your comfiest pants and a T-shirt, so that your arm is exposed and ready for the impending doom of an IV – even though you’re trying not to think about that because you would rather lick a frog than have a shot. You couldn’t eat from midnight until after your surgery, so you’re starving and watching the rest of your family eat breakfast and get ready for their day. The peanut butter and jelly sandwich that you ate at 11:30 the night before is long forgotten by your stomach. Your phone is flooded with good-luck texts from your aunts, uncles, and grandparents. 

Before you know it, you’re sitting in the car. Then you blink and you’re sitting in the waiting room. You were required to come in 30 minutes before your procedure began, so you’re staring out the window at the birds flying away from that horrific place. You’re wishing you were a bird that had no wisdom teeth. 

You hear footsteps. You see the smiling face of the surgeon’s assistant. You feel like you’re going to pass out as you follow them past the front desk, past the future victims sitting in the waiting room, and down a long hallway into a room with machines and computers. You sit in the soft and comfy chair right in the middle of the terrifying room. 

The surgeon walks in and gives you a fist bump. You don’t understand how he can be so calm at a time like this. He casually pokes your arm and shoves – very gently – the IV into your poor little vein. You look down at your arm that’s hooked up to all the machines. You think, “Man, I’m pretty brave.” 

You feel a little dizzy. You wonder when they are going to start the procedure. Then you realize that you can’t feel your mouth, and there’s gauze hanging out of it. As you look around, you realize you’re sitting in a wheelchair. Hold on, weren’t you in the chair about to start surgery a minute ago? 

You hear someone talking to you. You have no idea what they’re saying, but you’re responding. But somehow, you don’t know what you’re saying either. Now you’re moving. Oh look, it’s a person! You are SO excited to see that person that you’re smiling and waving at. Do you know that person? No. No, you do not. 

Somehow you end up in a car. You’re talking to your mom about Disney World, your friends from school, and turkeys. You have no idea why, but you go on and on. Your mom is sitting next to you, smiling and nodding. 

Later that day, you’re sitting on the couch eating ice cream. Your grandparents come and visit you, and you tell them all about how brave you were. They don’t need to know that you don’t remember a single thing. 

After they leave, you realize you really have to go to the bathroom. So you stand up and fall over. After picking yourself up you stumble on over to the bathroom. As you walk past the mirror you see someone that is swollen up like a balloon, standing before you. WHO IS THAT!? Oh. It’s you. 

As the hours bleed into days, you eat ice cream, watch movies, and take an atrocious amount of medications. You feel like you’re in another world, a world where Spaghettios is an appropriate breakfast option. 

The ice pack becomes your best friend, and your dog always looks at you like she’s concerned about you. But none of that matters because it’s time for another nap. 

Then one day, you feel a little like your normal self. The next day, even more. Finally, you can go back to school. You proudly walk around with your yellow cheeks, and stand in the pasta line at lunch. 

You look back and think, that wasn’t that bad. But you never – EVER – want to eat applesauce or ice cream again.