Tuesday, January 29, 2008


I had my lower wisdom teeth out yesterday, which marked my first experience with general anesthetic, followed by my first prescription for Vicodin. I was nervous about the former—that I would either die or, like, deliriously confess my wildest sexual fantasies to the hygienist assisting with the surgery.

There was an episode of Ellen—pre-coming-out—where she got high on nitrous and started hitting on her dentist. Although the dentist was a man, I always suspected that the plotline grew out of a fear that all closeted queers have of losing control and outing oneself.

But as far as I can remember, the most embarrassing thing that happened was that my dad, who drove me to the appointment, insisted on asking my oral surgeon a bunch of questions afterward, including whether he could see my extracted teeth (he could not). He was already disappointed that he hadn’t gotten a chance to refer me to his oral surgeon. My dad’s a control freak too, which is probably where I get it, not so much from being gay.

The Vicodin was also uneventful. And—knock on wood—I haven’t been in much pain, so I didn’t take a second dose. Pot has never done anything for me either, dammit. What’s a girl supposed to do when she wants to let go a little?


Claire said...

Was the hygienist cute? That's the real question. ;)

Your wisdom teeth were impacted, I take it? I had all mine out years ago (not impacted) and they let me have 'em. They're probably still around somewhere in storage.

Cheryl said...

It was a little hard to tell if she was cute beneath the scrubs, surgical mask and hat. Plus I had my drug goggles on, so what did I know?

Yeah, the teeth were half-buried under my gums. In my mind, my mouth was the perfect place to store them, but my dentist disagreed.

Anonymous said...

When I came out from under general anesthesia after my wisdom teeth extraction expedition, the one thing I was able to communicate was that I wanted my teeth. Since I was delirious, crying, vomiting blood, and more than a little crazy, they actually dug one out of the sterile garbage for me.

thelastnoel said...

Ain't it something that you have something called Wisdom pulled from your head?

Cheryl said...

Christine: You are an amazing consumer advocate, even (especially?) under extreme circumstances. I am impressed.

Noel: And what does it say when your wisdom goes rotten?

Tracy Lynn said...

Vicodin is kind of weak, plus you were in pain, so I, as a confirmed pillhead, am going to recommend a dose of, say three. For the Letting Loose.

Of course, as a recovering pillhead,...yeah, I still say three. And I will add a carbonated beverage, because bubbles are GOOD.

Cheryl said...

Like Vic-and-Pepsi? As a non-recovering sugar-head, that sounds great.