When my teeth started bothering me again. I made an appointment with the dentist. After an examination, it was decided that all my teeth needed to be removed. I would get a complete set of dentures. I was happy about the dentures, because I needed new ones, as I only had partials.

However, the thought of having the rest of my teeth pulled terrified me. But who wouldn’t dread such an experience? So I made tentative plans to have the procedure done.

I left the dentist’s office that day with promises of returning soon, which I did not. I kept telling myself that I couldn’t afford the initial down payment. Plus, since the pain had subsided, I was good, or so I thought.

Fast forward to almost a year, and terrible, terrible pain. I was at a different dentist’s office. He examined my mouth (took X-rays) and referred me to an oral surgeon to pull the wisdom tooth (bothering me)that was impacted. I had other teeth in my mouth that needed addressing, but this wisdom tooth he felt was the primary cause of my trauma.

At my appointment with the oral surgeon, x-rays were taken before she attempted to extract my tooth. Everything looked routine. Then came the Novocaine. She gave me a shot to numb the area. After what felt like a reasonable amount of time, she leaned in and tried to pull the tooth.

I hollered. And my right hand shot up so fast I’m pretty sure I smacked her in the face. The Novocaine clearly didn’t take effect. She paused. Glared down at me. I apologized for the slap. She and her assistant gave me a not-so-nice smile.

As she was preparing to give me more Novocaine. I saw her position herself strategically—as if she were preparing for a fight. She tried again pull the tooth. And my hand flew up again. This time, I missed her face—the message was clear. Absolutely not, my dear.

She injected me with Novocaine one more time and tried to pull the tooth, but it still hurt. Not as bad — but bad enough. This time, my hand stayed down. I was not going to assault this woman again. But while I managed to keep my hand to myself… my wig did not survive. Somehow, in the middle of my pain and panic, my wig had shifted off my head.

I was in the chair thinking, my tooth wasn’t gone, but my dignity was. Neither the oral surgeon nor her assistant said anything, which I was grateful for. I embarrassingly reached back and pulled my wig back on my head. I had never been through anything like that in my life.

The oral surgeon sighed and apologized because she could not finish the procedure. Apparently, by law, she couldn’t give me any more Novocaine. Which meant…I would have to be sedated in the hospital to get the tooth removed.

Crap! Crap! Crap!

So not only was the tooth holding on for dear life, but I had to schedule a whole hospital event for something the size of my thumbnail. Motherhood, I survived. Five kids, I managed. But my wisdom tooth. My impacted wisdom tooth was winning.

Apparently, my wisdom tooth and I are in a committed relationship, because the oral surgery planned for tomorrow, February 23, 2026, has been cancelled. Not so much due to the impending blizzard (Calvin), but other health issues arose.

Hopefully, when I return this erupted/impacted wisdom tooth will be gone.

Until the next blog, Be Blessed!

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