Wisdom, gone

Drinking soda through a straw. Eating crunchy tacos. Running on a treadmill.

Simple things, but I did them mindfully this week, in anticipation of getting my wisdom teeth removed.

My friends tried to reassure me with their own recollections. Charlie had four teeth removed at 3 p.m. and was at a party by 9. Carol's niece had hers done a couple of weeks ago, without incident. And, rationally, I doubted I’d have an experience like Chris' — a replacement dentist after four hours of unsuccessful tugging and breaking, followed up by weeks of soreness.

Still, I was tense. Couldn't fall asleep until 3 a.m.

Before I left work yesterday, Kelsey said, “Remember that we love you.” She knew I was morbidly afraid of not waking up from the anesthesia. (Yes, I know there is practically zero risk of that.)

So I spent Thursday night at Boulder Junction eating a last supper of chicken tenders and fried mushrooms, zucchini and celery, and chocolate chip cookies.

And today I went to the oral surgeon. He administered the IV, and I have no memory of even going under. Boom. Done.

I wouldn’t say it was anticlimactic — because it still hurts and pain is pain, after all. I did realize that the anticipation of pain is far worse than the experience of it.

But for once, I’m happy that I seem to be having the average experience. I look forward to returning to the world of crunchy food soon.

P.S. I did learn one other thing: spumoni is not a good post-surgery option. I can't chew the nuts or cherries.