Wit and Wisdom

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When I listed childhood and adolescent milestones (sleeping through the night, eating solid foods, crawling, talking, walking, going to school, and learning how to drive) in a previous blog, I forgot one, probably because it was most often a painful one. I had neglected to mention having wisdom teeth out.

Recently, I was reminded of this milestone when Nathan complained to me one weekend, “Mom, my gums are killing me right back here.” I asked, “Where?” and Nathan opened his mouth, full of perfectly straight teeth for which we had paid a hefty sum, pointed his finger back towards his molars, and he said, “Rrrrrht errrrre.” I didn’t even have to look; I thought, “Oh, no! Those bastard wisdom teeth!”

We had just gotten rid of the braces. I thought naively, “Well, that’s it then.” But, when I looked in Nathan’s cavernous mouth, I knew it wasn’t over until the fat oral surgeon bill stings!

I also knew it wasn’t something for which I couldn’t say, like with Iz’s growing pains, “Take some ibuprofen, and it’ll be all better in the morning.” Nathan never complained about pain or discomfort, even when he had strep, lice, pneumonia, newly tightened braces, or a badly skinned knee. He was of pre-Revolutionary War Vermont stock; I envisioned him taking a swig of whiskey and biting on a bullet if he ever was in serious pain.

At 3:15 today, we had an appointment with the oral surgeon. Nathan seemed a bit grumpy; however, he wasn’t so grumpy that he didn’t want to drive. Of course, the rule is that if you drive, you get to be the car DJ. I know almost every song by A Tribe Called Quest now, and I actually like some of them.

Prior to our trek today, I had made somewhat of a parenting mistake. When Nathan originally complained to me about his pain, I immediately called the dentist. I scheduled an appointment, took him, and the dental hygienist said, “It’s his wisdom teeth.”

Without thinking, I said out loud, “Oh, dear. I remember having my wisdom teeth out when I was 19. It was horrible.” I asked, “Has oral surgery gotten any better since then?” She laughed and said, “Oh, yes!”

Of course, Nathan was still not understanding the implication of the words “wisdom teeth.” So, he didn’t really absorb what I was talking about. Next out of my mouth was going to be me describing my Mom pulling over the turd brown Dodge Aspen 100 yards before Sudbury Center, so I could vomit all the blood I swallowed during my wisdom tooth surgery; thank goodness, I didn’t get that far down Memory Wisdom Tooth Lane.

The hygienist gave me a referral to an oral surgeon. She then informed me that Nathan was behind in his cleanings. If we stayed for another 45 minutes, they could fit him in for a cleaning.

Nathan muttered under his breath. I said, "What?" He said, "Mom, I'm really hungry now. I said, “Can he have another appointment this week? He’s hungry and grumpy now.”

She said, "Sure. We have something tomorrow." I looked at Nathan, who was still oblivious to the wisdom teeth aspect of our visit, and he said, "Sure." As we left, she laughed and said, "Nathan, please come back less grumpy tomorrow." I had to laugh because I hoped for the same. I was beginning to think this wasn't just hunger; it was [cringe] adolescence!

After we arrived home and Nathan’s fuel gauge was reading “Full” instead of “Hungry,” he began to remember the events of the previous few hours. He said, “So, I might have to have these teeth taken out?” I told him it was probably most likely, and then I slipped again saying, “And, after I had my wisdom teeth out during my freshman college break, I developed mono!”

Of course, Nathan then gave me a sly look and asked, “Mono, Mom?” I said, “Oh, it’s so not what you’re thinking Nathan. I didn’t even had a boyfriend then!” Nathan looked doubtful since I just admitted I had what was sometimes called the “Kissing Disease.”

I said, “Two women in my dorm had it, and I probably got it from them, because 10 women shared one bathroom.” January of my freshman college year was a horrendous one for me. I spent the entire six weeks sick as a dog.*

*Major Guilt Note: It was only recently that I found out that my experience effected someone profoundly. No, it wasn’t Nathan. When this all started to happen with Nathan, Melissa (a.k.a., Dr. Tunabreath) told me that it was suggested that she have her wisdom teeth removed. She told me she didn’t, because she remembered the hell I went through!

These are pictures that she took of me that January. It looks like I’m having fun, but my cheeks weren’t that big normally. And, not many people know this, but after you’ve had difficult oral surgery, a side effect is pushing stuffed bears up your sweater.



As Nathan, Iz, and I walked into the oral surgeon’s office, Iz began to do what she does best. She will never be one of those people who doesn’t ask questions. No event goes unquestioned or without comment; I’m convinced that Iz is really Robin Roberts, Tyra Banks, or Christiane Amanpour in size 6x jeans wearing a Hannah Montana t-shirt while listening to Taylor Swift on her iPod Shuffle.

Iz said, “Do we have to go into the room with Nathan?”
I said, “No.”
She asked, “That’s because he’s a big boy, right?”

Before I could answer that question, she said, “This reminds me of the building where I had my first H1N1 shot.” Again, before I could say a thing, she said, “Remember, I cried when I got my second one.” Gosh, how could I forget, and then I tried to say something, but she said, “But, then I said, oh, that didn’t really hurt at all!”

Once we arrived at the office, I signed three forms in six different places, and, shortly thereafter, Nathan was called into the exam room. After he had his panoramic x-ray, I was called in. So, I misinformed Iz; Nate wasn’t a big boy when it came to his wisdom teeth.

The oral surgeon came in and gave Nathan a history of wisdom teeth. At that point, I don’t think Nathan really care about their history. He only knew that they had now become a huge inconvenience in his life.

The surgeon began to explain the potential procedure. Nathan is not a big fan of needles, so he was relieved to find out that they would numb his arm with novocain before they inserted the IV that would deliver the anesthesia that would put him to sleep. The surgeon said, much to Nathan’s relief, “You will be totally knocked out. Yeah, it will be like you’re dreaming about fairies and unicorns the whole time.”

Iz was sitting on my lap, and as I’ve said before, she’s not one to say “No comment.” She immediately said, “Nathan doesn’t like fairies and unicorns.” Nathan glared at her; the surgeon said, “What? Everyone likes fairies and unicorns” to which Iz said, “Nathan doesn’t!” Yes, on the morning of surgery, I will make sure that Iz is far, far away from Nathan.

Removal of four impacted wisdom teeth: $2600
Giving Nathan anesthesia instead of letting him have a swig of whiskey and bite on a bullet: $350
Having wisdom teeth removed after prom but before trip to Europe in June: Priceless for Nathan (well, to some degree when he isn't in pain) but $1000 out-of-pocket for Mom and Dad! ♥