beetrock

My wisdom teeth are. Two years of struggling for survival in my undersized mouth have finished in this tragic departure. My conversation with the oral surgeon yesterday morning -

Surgeon: Sorry, we are going to use local anesthesia on all of your teeth.
Me (whimpering): But, but I really hate novocain, in Russia sometimes I ask that dentists not use it because it’s so horrible and makes me feel really crappy (crying for more effect). Can’t you use something else?
Surgeon: Oh yeah, well you have no choice, and wait didn’t you say you were Russian? I thought you guys were supposed to be tough?
Me (angry): You want tough? I’ll show you fucking tough (biting and spitting out a large piece of the surgeon’s arm)….

Of course the last part never happened… But I did get no laughing gas and got reprimanded by my surgeon for being nervous. So I showed him by acting completely passed out while the procedure was being done. Actually, aside from a feeling that someone is man-handling me with pliers, the pulling of the teeth part wasn’t so bad. Neither was the percocet induced nap afterwards.