I Can't Think of a Title.

Thanksgiving is hands down my favorite day of the year. It's like Christmas, only better, because one does not have to worry about buying gifts, or acting surprised when you get the gift you wanted or acting content when you did not get the gift you wanted. But this Thursday I was a little reluctant. This is because scribed in my newly received day planner was a memo; Wisdom Teeth.

I awoke Friday and promptly began my directions. I downed two Valium, and swished with mouthwash. In the shower I went, feeling fine, out of the shower I came, feeling indifferent. At this point I was starting to worry. Do I have some unknown tolerance to these drugs?

I put on loose fitting clothes as instructed, and pulled out a book. After a couple minutes I became bored and closed my eyes, welcoming another short rest. I sat for what seemed like an eternity until my mother beckoned for me. And was I conscious? Heck yes, I was. I sat on my butt, and slid down the stairs like when I was a boy. On the way to the car I made a point to ram into every inanimate object possible.

I opened my eyes in the oral surgeon's office and the he said his famous last words, "I'm going to pinch your arm a bit." The medicine flowed coolly through my left arm as the nurse placed some device over my nose. I laughed and told her she was being rude.

I awoke, roughly an hour later, exactly four teeth lighter, and was out the door faster than I expected. I got in the car once again, and just quickly as we had came, we had left. For a brief moment I told my mother to go back and get me my teeth. She obliged, but upon returning to the office we learned that she had thrown them away. Home, sweet, home I was, and the remainder of the day I spent on the couch, sleeping and waking. Likewise Saturday and Sunday passed without any significance.

I read on my directions that it would be worst between the third and fifth day, but by 12:00 o'clock on Monday I was still feeling nothing. Then Oh my God, Oh my God I was dying. After eating Egg-Drop Soup I was in the shower; and I was puking. I got out and the whole world turned against me. My mother refused to acknowledge the fact that I existed while she chatted about family matters on the phone, and with my dad's face burrowed into the computer screen I could sense his reaction would have been the same.

It was the first day of school, I was in the fifth grade. I was riding my bike and came flying down the a hill at mach three as would any ten year old. SMASH! The top of my head connected with the rear end of a construction van, inches from the tail light, which sent me at least five feet into the air. I landed on the ground and immediately stood up, my bike in a heap as proof of the accident. I made my way over to the grass and sat down. The driver of the car came over to me in a rage and immediately called the police, convinced that I was at fault. Time passed and I was in the hospital, preformed on me was a cat scan, and after a few hours I was released, free to go home to my first night of homework. I'm telling you with all honesty, I would've much rather been hit by a truck again then have my Wisdom teeth taken out.

It wasn't until then that the idea of Wisdom Teeth Extraction seemed sketchy to me. It wasn't until then that I realized that I had not even seen my wisdom teeth. Who's to say that my parents didn't fork over 20 thousand dollars just to have them cut up my cheeks a little? Beware masters of oral surgery, or shall I say, con artists, I am on your case.