Wisdom Teeth

Sandy reports that Billy got all four wisdom teeth removed at once this week.  Yikes! For some of us, wisdom teeth were a trauma. We needed to do it, for fear that wisdom teeth would push our years of orthodontics out of line and we would get crooked teeth again.  I went to an oral surgeon in Eugene who did two at a time, one upper and one lower on the same side.  He told Mom and Dad that he would have done four teeth at once, but he didn't think I could handle it. He was probably right--when he was done, I saw blood on the overhead light fixture, and he said that the teeth were shaped like hockey pucks that kept slipping out of his grasp.  My face swelled so furiously that I could only sip liquids, so Mom bought some hideous canned food substitute for me. Two weeks after the teeth came out, the swelling came back, so we had to do a run to Eugene where the surgeon installed a drain so that the tooth socket would heal from the inside out.  I had a nasty taste in my mouth, and undoubtedly putrid-smelling breath for weeks. Here I was a sensitive teen-aged girl with a face that was so swollen it sagged.  When I looked in the mirror and the tears started trickling down my cheek, Mom asked, "Does it hurt."  When I told her "No," she asked "Then what are you crying about?" 
     When it was Sandy's turn next, the local dentist did the dirty deed, but Mom told me later that he admitted to having a very tough time, and if he'd realized how difficult the procedure would be, he would not have tried it.
     Maybe that's why Mark got hauled back to the surgeon in Eugene for his wisdom teeth. Sandy tells me that Mom decided to do a little shopping while she was in Eugene, and that was a mistake, because Mark's meds wore off before they were home and he was one "hurting unit."
     Then along came Tina. They couldn't find her wisdom teeth, so they weren't removed. She probably looked at her older siblings and willed those teeth out of existence.
      Eric was next to inherit the crowded jaw.  He was high school aged when the oral surgeon drugged him heavily during the procedure.  By then, he was a foot taller than I. I told the doctor, "Don't drug him too heavily.  I can't lift and carry him to my car to get him home."  The doctor said,"Just do this!"  He held his palm in front of his face and blew a little puff of air. "Do that and he'll float home."
     Brook was somewhat luckier than the rest of us.  He had big enough a mouth that he didn't have to have all those second bicuspids pulled, but his teeth were pitched out and had to be pulled back into line. But he reacted badly to the preventative antibiotics and to the painkillers, and got sick the day after surgery.  The doctors office called to check up on him at home then called me at work and told me to get home.  They told Brook to go cold turkey on both the antibiotics and the painkillers, and he found it easier to go cold turkey than to put up with the drugs.
    I'm glad for my dazzling, perfectly aligned, Miss America smile.  However, every molar that was an anchor to those metal orthodontic braces has cracked and now sports an artificial crown.