Today I turned myself in at the oral surgeon's office for excavations.
It was ... interesting.
The silent TV screen overhead offered a nice, restful beach scene but its benefit was lost when they covered my eyes. They enclosed my hair in an elasticized blue surgical cap, which can't have looked good, and then placed heavy fabric over my eyes for the duration of the procedure, probably so they wouldn't have to see them wide open in abject horror. I thought briefly of executions in which a black hood is lowered over the subject's head before hanging or shooting, doubtless for the same reason. It's easier on the bystanders.
When I was suitably disguised, they brought in the chain saws. One of the teeth slated for demolition had to be deliberately broken. Deliberately, as opposed to accidentally, and removed in pieces. At one point, the doctor requested forceps of his assistant, which made me think of high forceps deliveries although I have never experienced one except in movies. A lot of sharp implements were used, most of which I had never heard of before. I'm pretty sure a battering ram was employed against my jaw bone.
The doctor kept up a running commentary, although I was able to respond only in gurgles.
Afterward, my wisdom teeth were disposed of as hastily as you would remove a dead mouse from your dinner plate. I did not get to pay my last respects.
I was fitted out with two kinds of huge pills which require a mortar and pestle and applesauce, a lot of gauze and a sheet of instructions for my care and feeding, then released on my own recognizance.
Six hours later, I am still bleeding profusely, which has reinforced my loathing for vampires. Blood has a vile and nasty taste, even my own, although it is a pretty color.
Not only that, but someone is eating all the medicinal ice cream. Round up the usual suspects.
