Going to the dentist is not something many people look forward to.  It’s not exactly the highlight of events on the calendar is it?  I’m one of those people who grips the chair for dear life, slugs huge gulps of air, and sweats profusely whilst trying to maintain a degree of dignity.

I was not exactly looking forward to my appointment for a wisdom tooth extraction.  The appointment got off to a great start when he had to re-do the x-rays of the previous visit. This involves him shoving x-ray ‘stuff’ at the back of my mouth and asking me to “bite down”.  It involves me retching and gagging every time I try to “bite down”.  By the time the painless bit of the appointment is done, my eyes are streaming, I am a hot sweaty mess, and it is down to sheer luck that I am not covered in my own regurgitated breakfast.  My dentist tells me I am not his worst patient.  I’m not entirely sure I believe him.

All the while I’m in the chair I have a little mantra going around my head; “You’ve been through labour. Twice.  You can do this”.  Only problem is there is no gas and air.  And when I’m 4 foot off the ground in the dentist chair and he is literally hanging his entire body weight from my wisdom tooth with a pair of what can only be described as pliers, I think I’d rather have my leg in stirrups with a bunch of strangers staring at my lady garden and talking about “crowning” and “episiotomy”.  At least I’d get something cute at the end of it and a load of presents.

But no,  apparently teeth do not come out as easily as the ‘one punch’ in the movies would have you believe,  After twenty minutes of a rather strenuous work out on my dentists part, and talk of “not being able to remove all of it” and “cutting the bone”, at the end of it, all I have is a very swollen face and lots and lots of pain.  And I had to pay for the torture.

 

teeth

 

One

You can’t go home and curl up under a duvet watching trashy TV.  Well you can, but the small people are likely to bounce on your head and repeatedly ask for Peppa Pig to be put on.

Two

It hurts to talk so you can’t tell the small people off and end up watching Peppa Pig on repeat for some peace.

Three

There’s a high risk of an over-excited toddler shoving his fingers in your mouth or beating you round the face with a book.

Four

The only thing you can eat is bananas.  As with all food you eat around small people, you must share.  So you are now sharing the only thing you can eat.  And because you can only eat slowly they have devoured the whole thing in the time it has taken you to have one mouthful. One very small mouthful.

Five

Other people still need to eat something over than bananas, so you get to make lovely meals that you can’t eat even though you are bloody starving.

Six

You run out of milk so have to get yourself dressed and drag your arse and the small people to the shops.  This sucks even more when you drink your tea black and have no use for the milk yourself.

Seven

Small people ask a gazillion questions a day, and “yes” and “no” answers are not satisfying them right now.  Now, when it feels like you have been repeatedly punched in the face.  When every word you say makes you want to rip your face off.  Now, they chose to ask deep and insightful questions about God, life, love and the universe.

Eight

Your small people make you smile.  A lot.  It hurts to smile.  A lot.

Nine

You are on antibiotics so cannot look forward to a glass of wine once the kids are in bed.

Ten

There’s a high probability you are going to have to drag your throbbing face to a children’s party full of screaming small people.

 

So there you go people.  Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

 

This post was inspired by real life events, although I should thank my husband for allowing me to hide in our bedroom for twenty four hours whilst he took care of the small people.  I had a Twitter conversation with Prabs from Absolutely Prabulous, who said she couldn’t see me writing a funny post about having my wisdom tooth removed.  I accepted her challenge.  It’s up to you if you think it’s funny, although if you don’t, be nice, remember I’ve just had my wisdom tooth removed.

 

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Leave me a comment.

 

           



BritMums

 


Claire Kirby

32 Comments on Why Parents Should Not Have Their Wisdom Teeth Removed

  1. This is a very funny post. You’ve won the challenge. I had my wisdom teeth removed long before my kids were a twinkle in my eye and it was hard enough then. Respect to you for getting through it. Although I do have a hernia surgery coming up so will also have to cope with post-op childcare soon…

  2. I don’t know how you coped, I had mine out before I had my children. In the surgery, THROUGH MY JAW as it was under my existing teeth pushing them out. It felt pretty medieval, went through a nerve, couldn’t open my jaw for over a week. Honestly worse than all three labours combined. Ugh I want some gin just thinking about it! But I hasten to add, you can make anything funny Claire! I hate to say I did laugh, especially at the kids stealing your only source of food! Monkeys! Glad you are all better now (have a fab weekend at BML!) xx #FridayFrolics

  3. I feel your pain…and am laughing at it! Actually I’m not, because my wisdom teeth flare up from time to time and I think that I am on the verge of facing a similar experience, so I’m not sure that I can bring myself to laugh…oh go on then – you gave it a cheerful spin 🙂 Alison x #FridayFrolics

  4. I am hearing you!!! I believe my dentist took pity on me as I breastfed a 6 week old as I waited my ‘turn’. I swear I got a double glug of the good stuff and I floated for the rest of the day. Hope you’re going OK. #FridayFrolics

  5. Ouch! That doesn’t sound like any fun at all…especially not having any wine to make it all better. Hope you feel better now!

  6. Ooo, I’ve been there, I had all 3 out, 2 were fine, then the bottom jaw, the silly billy dentist said it would be as painful after, some left me with just 1 painkiller! I can’t imagine Peppa Pig was much of a comforter! Hope you’re mended now #fridayfrolics

  7. Aw Claire! I had a good chuckle (at your expense. Soz!) I had to have mine extracted under anesthetic in hospital as they were impacted, but when they intubated me they tore the inside of my nose so I woke up in the night choking on blood (lovely!!) I had some doctor pack my nose with ribbon gauze until I must have looked like Rocky Balboa on a good day.. THen next morning he pulled this ribbon out of my nostril like a magician pulling an endless stream of magical bunting from his sleeve. Despite being a pharmacist (expharmacist) I am really squeamish and after the bunting had been removed from my nose I shuffled off to the ladies bathroom and promptly passing out! Nightmare!!

    But I can visualise your hamster cheeked pain and angst as the jingly jangly Peppa Pig theme plays like a soundtrack in the background…But I laughed anyway! #FridayFrolics

    See you on Saturday 🙂

  8. Ouch! I’ve luckily never had my wisdom teeth removed and I’m probably in a vast minority of people who actually doesn’t mind going to the dentist. Glad your husband let you rest and I chuckled at the challenge accepted part! Virtual high five! #fridayfrolics

  9. Well done, Prabs – great challenge! (Yes, you had your wisdom tooth removed & wrote a funny post about it, and I am giving Prabs the credit!) It IS funny – challenge won. ‘You are now sharing the only thing you can eat’ is hilarious. I will try to avoid having wisdom teeth removed. #fridayfrolics

  10. I am petrified of the dentist! I haven’t been for far too long! I really should though! So well done you for braving the dentist in the first place! 😉 And thank you for the shout out 🙂 xx

  11. Oh dear! Been toying around with the idea of having mine removed as they’re hard to clean properly and I thought it might give me cheekbones. The dentist kept talking about nerves though and it put me off. There’s no way my son will share his bananas so this is defo a no go.

  12. Hillaire! This reminds me of when I was in Hungary for work and got wisdom tooth ache. I tried to numb the pain with vodka but it didn’t work so the hotel found me a 24 hour dentist. He had certificated from Harvard on the wall so I felt very secure as he stuck the needles in to my throbbing gum. But then as the pain (and vodka) subsided I started to realise that his medical centre looked more like my Nana’s kitchen and then he told me that the certificates were not real -“They are just for show, he said. Regardless of this he whipped out that bastard tooth in warp speed and it only cost £20. Best £20 I ever spent. The pain killers/horse tranquillisers that I was prescribed were also excellent!

  13. Ok
    1) I’m super impressed you actually write a post on this, in pain AND less than 24 hours after our chat!

    2) thanks so much for the shout out #bloggerlove

    3) you poor girl esp #5

    4) you’re a nutter (but a tad awesome) for actually blogging when you should have been resting lol

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