There's a Hippo on my lower jaw, help.

-Swipes the tip of blog, letting the dust accumulate on the edge of his fingers-

Ahh...hello folks.

Been a while hasn’t it? An over-extended hiatus which I had promised myself initially to not let it consume me but what do you know ehy? I got seduced by the lulling comforts of procrastination.

Nevertheless, I am back in the online realm, hopefully for a prolonged period this time around. Perhaps the very fact that I actually do care to update with such an afflatus entry is a portent of things to come?

I had all four of my wisdom tooth extracted a few days back and now my cheeks look like I have cue balls in them. It feels as if there’s a hippo happily sitting on my lower jaw. There’re stitches in the back of my gums, and The Lady in My Life (TLML) says that the reason I went under anaesthesia was not because of the pain, but because the people over at the hospital didn’t want me seeing a surgeon fingering my mouth whilst at the same time, humming away at his/her song of the week. I take anaesthesia anytime.

For those people who are planning to get their wisdom tooth (or teeth if you’re feeling adventurous, like me) extracted, here’s a gist of how the nice folks at National Dental Centre go about doing it.

But first, what is this, wisdom teeth?

It is the last set of molars that tend to grow out when you are between the ages of 18-22. Despite the rather positive connotations that the name ‘wisdom’ has, no, it is not a literal translation of how smart your teeth is.  Think of it as a misnomer.

So, what’s the big deal if it grows out?

Well, nothing really, unless it’s an impacted wisdom tooth. You see, when your third molars (wisdoms) grow out, there are a few directions in which it will pop out. If your wisdom teeth grows out in a manner in which is goes against your gums, then yea, you have a fucking problem. There are a few other ways in which your teeth can grow out but I’m too bloody lazy to list them all.

For my case, thankfully, my wisdom teeth were growing out quite dandily except for one. My bottom right one gave me a few days of fever, and that was the trigger that led to my decision (to remove it). It also helped a tiny, minute, miniscule bit that my national service stint would cover up to 80% of the surgery fees. So with a clear understanding (more of a schoolboy glee mixed with curiosity) of what I was getting myself into, I made the call and arranged the appointment with the dentist.

Fast-forward a few weeks later and I was in my own private room (national service rocks!) with a blue, oversized, Jedi-like robe covering my entire body. I awaited the surgery with some trepidation, because the head nurse that briefed me a few moments earlier had told me that;

•        There is a 1% chance that I will have a permanent numbness in my tongue and lower jaw.
  
•         There is a 1% chance that I might not wake up from the anesthesia.
  

After she’s done telling me those awesome facts, she shoved this piece of paper in my face, telling me to sign it if I am aware of the risks involved. What the fuck? You’re telling me that;

•      I might not be able to feel my tongue after the surgery? I like my tongue! My TLML loves my     tongue as well! How will I explain it to her??
•   So yea I might die, no biggie there...but the tongue thing, geez.
  

But I signed the agreement nonetheless, and they wheeled me (well not immediately) into the operating theatre. The last thing I remembered was when the nurse told me that the injection of the anesthesia was going to be very painful. She wasn’t fucking kidding. It felt like somebody was trying to burst my veins, and I knew that I wanted to tell her something but then....I went to sleep.

A very, deep sleep.

I woke up and they had stuffed cotton in my mouth. My head felt heavy, and they kept calling out my name. I gave them the thumbs up (I saw some dude doing it in the movies) and I clonked back out.

Back into that very, very comfortable slumber.

And all that happened on Friday....its Sunday today and my stitches are going to be removed on Tuesday. I can’t eat for nuts, and they keep telling me to eat soft food. A sponge is a soft food. And oh, below is an awesome picture of the stitches I was telling you folks about. And yes, that's the inside of my mouth:

So folks, go see a dentist if you have any dental problems, cause they sure as hell will pull it out for you. Don’t wait before it’s too late, like this guy below;