Well, I survived.

I’ve decided that wisdom teeth are an excellent argument against creationism. If there’s a God, I don’t think He’s stupid enough to design beings with such useless, problem-causing teeth that are so painful to remove.

At the last minute my dad decided to go with me, which was fortunate. It was nice to have him drive me home afterwards; and then he spent the rest of the afternoon and evening with me at my apartment.

The removal itself was pretty brutal. I was really nervous, and the dentist wasn’t planning to give me anesthesia, just novocaine. But I asked for gas, which I thought might help. It did — for a little while, anyway. Eventually I became nervous again; I think the disorientation of the gas actually made me feel more unsettled, or perhaps I just wasn’t breathing deeply enough. I definitely felt intense pain at some points. I whined several times, and my eyes even filled with tears. It was that bad.

When it was all over, there were several drops of blood on my t-shirt and on my forearms, despite the fact that I was wearing two or three bibs. The dentist said it was pretty tough to get the teeth out; my bone apparently wasn’t as soft as it is when most people get their wisdom teeth removed, because I’m about 10 years older than the average patient.

I looked at the little blood-covered things afterwards. Wow. Those things have been inside my head all this time?

I held ice packs on my face for 20-minute intervals for the next 24 hours. I’ve been eating soft foods. Surprisingly, and thankfully, I haven’t really been any pain, although my cheeks are a little bit swollen. I’m taking off from work tomorrow, and perhaps Tuesday, too. I’ll see.

Thank goodness I’ll never have to have my wisdom teeth removed again. Whew. I’m glad it’s over.