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Dentes Sapientiae Nomen Stultum Habent

February 19, 2011

For some reason I turned 31 last week. So far I’m finding that it makes absolutely no difference. All the same things are the usual things. But here’s some great news: I’m not too long in the tooth to be teething. Men of Athens, two weeks ago I met one of my wisdom teeth. A dentist told me a few years back that those fuckers would never see the light of day, but apparently Mr. Bottom Right wasn’t listening. And Mr. Top Right seems to be following his ambitious brother’s example, except in a more crooked way. Boss Tweed as a wisdom tooth, forsooth. Before I go to bed I find myself praying for the quadruplets’ straightness with all the fervency of a bigoted parent. So far I’m finding that it makes absolutely no difference.

If there’s one thing I really enjoy, it’s people touching me. All the better if I’m in a reclining position and have been commanded to sit still. All the even better if my face is involved. All the best of all if it’s my mouth. And needles full of anaesthetic can only add to what I’m already envisioning as the greatest experience of my life. Needless to say, I’m really stoked about my upcoming dentist appointment, where I’m going to sit there and the dentist is going to tell me that we can either do this now when it’s bad or we can do this later when it’s worse and I’m going to respond with such reason and dignified comportment that s/he will totally fail to perceive the magnitude of my distress. I cannot wait to get this show on the road.

During a slow moment at work today I cranked up the dial of my excitement by looking at photos of wisdom teeth online. You name it, there’s a Google image of it. X-rays of Jimmy and Sally Wisdom sticking out of people’s gumlines in all kinds of physically impossible ways, photos of them lined up on the counter post-extraction, photos of dentists pulling them out. Just a wonderful few minutes.

And if I thought the surgery was an attractive prospect (n.b. not to be confused with an attractive prospector [*cough* Nellie Cashman]), imagine my glee upon reading of the post-procedural proceedings. To word it R. Kellily: after the party is the after party. The dewisdomized semianesthetized patient gets to somehow find her way home and spend a couple of days horizontally zonked on the nearest bed, sipping liquefied steak through a bendy straw and trying to make sense of the bits and fragments of the world that she can see through the haze of the painkillers. Will there be rancid gauze to change frequently, you ask? Yes! That rancidness is totally normal and may last up to two weeks. The accompanying blood should taper off after five or six days. If you can talk and are able to make a phone call, let your dentist know if it hasn’t.

Meanwhile, I’ll be enjoying the extra wisdom these magnificent bastards are infusing me with at no charge. The length of the hypotenuse (??) of an isosceles triangle is equal to the something of the remaining sides. Arma virumque cano, Troiae qui primus ab oris / aliquid fato profugus aliquid aliquid Laviniaque aliquid.

Cinnamon cocks!

2 Comments leave one →
  1. Joaquin permalink
    February 20, 2011 9:20 am

    Check it out! Virgil, dentistry, rap, all in one link:

  2. Kate permalink*
    February 21, 2011 10:53 am

    I dream of a world where the most disparate topics and genres in the land will forever converge in such a way.

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