Sunday, 21 April 2013

The pursuit of wisdom (teeth)


I'm going to call this tooth Marvin, to try to keep this simple and so that my other wisdom teeth don't get unfairly blamed because, quite frankly, the other three have all been fairly well behaved.
Marvin...what the actual fuck?

Here is my timeline.

6 months ago:
Marvin is kinda beginning to poke through and is causing some distress. I go to see a dentist.
Am told that this is normal. That he'll be fine. That maybe I should get an x-ray just to make sure. But whatever. No biggie.

Who me? X-ray? Pfft. If it's not life or death I just can't be bothered. I've got bigger fish to fry! Bigger stones to throw! Bigger essays to write! (once again, today I am of course procrastinating)


[Friday] Three days ago:
Marvin is beginning to twitch.

Shutup Marvin. No one even likes you.


3am Saturday Morning:
Marvin has brought all his friends to the party and they're getting stuck into the tequila. They're waking the neighbours!

I stumble out of bed and down a couple panadol.
Suck on that Marvin. You stupid twelvie. You're so far behind the rest of my teeth anyway. Who the fuck do you think you are to just show up now and claim some right to territory in my mouth, huh?

9am Saturday morning:
I look in the mirror and I see this weird lump. Like I've got a gobstopper tucked inside my cheek. Except I've got no gobstopper. I've just got Marvin. And he's unhappy.



11pm Saturday Night:
I decide to nip Marvin's temper tantrums in the bud and take some pre-sleep panadol.

1.30am Saturday Night:
Marvin is driving a pickaxe through my skull. I can barely open my mouth because of the swelling. I can't sleep. I decide the only cure is the mini chocolate cupcakes I bought last night.
I bite into one. I am so wrong.
I don't even care. I eat it anyway. Then I eat the paper too. It's weird and gross. I know. But I just don't even care. I'm delirious. The pain is making me crazy. I take more panadol. Then I take even more. Then I read the instructions on the back and I'm like. Fuck. Too much panadol. Then I eat another cupcake. I don't eat the paper this time. I turn on the t.v. There will be no rest tonight. Marvin is playing dubstep in my mouth and my whole head is throbbing rhythmically to the beat.

Sunday:
I cancel work and drive home to sulk. I can't even look at myself in the mirror but if I put my hand under my left cheek I can play with the swollen, globby flesh that's hanging down there.
I am unhappy

Monday morning:
Mum (god bless her!) has talked my way into the overbooked dentist surgery. I jump out of bed and we drive down. The dentist look in my mouth and is like
'… oh my god sweetie. This is... special'.

Looks like my Marvin is one of those kids who everyone tells you is gifted and talented but who is actually just incredibly anti-social and has anger management issues.

So I'm going to see the specialist today. And then hopefully surgery at some point in the near future. I want to take a quick moment to apologise to my parents for being such a medical disaster my whole life. Neither of my sisters have ever had anything wrong with them, have never been hospitalised with any freak disease. I however have been a constant source of trauma. It's part of my personality to never do anything by halves. Seems like my body also takes that stance. If something is going to go wrong with me. By god it goes wrong. Either I'm running 10kms and doing Tough Mudder with my friends, or I am literally at death's door with some rare and incurable strain of the common cold. Its either one or the other with me it seems.

Most children are able to play in a kiddie pool incident free.
But I'll get a hernia and have an operation thanks!

Most people are able to travel without injury.
Don't mind if I go to America, kick the ground and break my leg!

Some people might sprain their ankle once in a while.
I'll get this... 



How naive of me to expect that getting my wisdom teeth to be any different.

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