Wisdom Toothectomy

I don't have any scientific evidence at all to support this finding, but I'm pretty sure Canberra's recent 'earthquake' dislodged one of my wisdom teeth.  One of those small, whitish structures that are impaled into my jawbone has been causing me considerable distress of late.  Since the earthquake-ette, in fact.  I guess you could call it tectonic teething problems. 

'They' say you shouldn't mess around when it comes to your tooths, eyes, and something else; I really don't remember.  I probably should listen from time to time to those mystery people, whose identities elude me. The winner in this whole teething brouhaha is my dentist, of course, and the jolly shareholders of the pharmaceutical giant that produce my best mate, Nurofen.  I huge shout out to Ibuprofen.

Stupid wisdom teeth have absolutely no point whatsoever.  They come up whenever it bloody suits them, and you can't get rid of them even if you ignore them, plus they really don't have any job description except to be completely annoying and extremely painful and just generally get in the way of the proper order of things.  They are the Kardashians of the dental world. 

Today I went to the dentii (there are six in my practice) to get some advice on the way forward, but dentists only really offer one option when it comes to pointless molars. Extraction, extraction, extraction. Dentists are far too comfortable and confident in discussions regarding removing things that are attached to your face. I find it most unnerving, but I suppose it is far better than an apprehensive dentist.

I should have had the darn thing pulled on the spot, but I heard the word extraction and tried to make a beeline for the exit.  Who knew the dental hygienist at my new practice had such good defensive door-blocking skills. 

So instead of having the procedure there and then, I now have to wait another few days before I head once more into the breach, dear friends, which is another few days of anxiously wringing my hands waiting for the day of extraction.

Another added benefit is that I will need fork out for another consultation fee, but I will happily do so, merely as a way of thanking the dentist for sending a shooting pain through my entire central nervous system.  I think dental practices should have one of those alarm systems connected to their front door, that helpfully chimes "ka-ching" as you enter the establishment, to alert the inhabitants that their next victim has arrived and is ready to have their bank balance drained.

And then one as you sit in the chair, and one when the dentist engages you in conversation, and one when you spit bloody saliva into a suction sink, before the final tone at the reception desk to alert you to the fact that it's time to pay off your tab.