Post Stinktooth

"I am your dentist, I have a talent for causing distress..."

Monday morning I finally acted on something I had put off for months: wisdom tooth extraction.

I had known about the problem for maybe the past eight months, when my dental hygienist had informed me that I had a deep fissure next to one of my wisdom teeth, the one on the lower left side. A few months after that, I started to develop what I lovingly referred to as "stinktooth." The area around the wisdom tooth just did not feel (or smell) good at all. Some medicated mouthwash helped clear it up a bit, but it was clear to me that the stinktooth's days were numbered.

So, I went to an oral surgeon who confirmed the worst, and we schedule a day to have it removed. The good news was, the other wisdom teeth could stay in place, and may never need to be removed (knock on wood). 

Being the hypochondriac that I am, I delayed the extraction for as long as I possibly could. I had it scheduled for right before I retired. Smart idea, I thought. Surely my workload will have lessened by that point. HA! The week before it was to occur, I moved it to after I retired. This week.

But oh, what a drama queen I was about getting it done. All weekend long, Corb heard me grumbling and moaning about the procedure, about how worried I was about having it done, would it result in a stroke at my age, would I have to be rushed to the hospital... 

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