Done.

That was one experience that I’m glad I should only need to go through once in my lifetime.  It’s not that it was bad, or painful… I’d just prefer to keep the rest of my teeth firmly rooted in my jaw.

Rachel went with me, for which I was extremely grateful.  She’s such a good friend.  As I climbed into her van, she tossed a teddy bear at me. 

 

Isn't he cute? He fit in my pocket.

 

I couldn’t see what the dentist and the dental hygienist were doing in my mouth (for which I am also extremely grateful), and so I sort of spent most of the procedure just guessing what was going on.  The dentist wasn’t a very talkative guy, and didn’t really explain much.  Which, by the way, didn’t help with me feel any less frightened.  The worst part of the whole thing was when the dentist used a little tool to sort of pry my teeth loose.  I could feel the pressure, and hear my teeth sort of crunching, and it made me feel more than a little panicky.  Oh, and then, after the dentist ripped each tooth out, they’d exclaim, “Oh my goodness.  Look at those roots!”  Not what I wanted to hear right then.

But it’s done.  The dentist sent me home packing a mouthful of gauze and with a prescription for Tylenol with codeine (wonderful stuff, by the way).  My jaw is sore, and there are gaping holes in my mouth where my teeth used to be.  But, I didn’t bleed to death in the dentist’s chair, my face isn’t paralyzed, and I stopped looking like a chipmunk once I took the gauze out of my mouth.  So, all in all, I didn’t need to be as frightened as I was.