Wisdom Hurts…

And it hurts real bad!

I swear I have a genuine reason to crib this time, so humor me, please!

Ofcourse, you know that wisdom teeth or the third molars are vestigial organs (like the appendix) – basically redundant as over the span of human evolution they have lost their purpose, which was primarily to help grind down plant tissues and other raw foliage.

Now, the only known purpose they serve is to be the butt of jokes and give trouble to unsuspecting homo homo sapiens :P.

Apparently, for 35% of the people, the wisdom teeth never even appear. As far as luck, fate or destiny is concerned, I figure pretty low on the scale, so I am one of the unlucky 65% who have been blessed with complete wisdom (teeth).

A nasty tooth ache took me to the dentist and resulted in surgical “impaction” of my right upper and lower wisdom teeth. Three anesthesia injections and 90 minutes of constant prodding, tinkering, and drilling (the surgeon actually called it that) have not only left me half as wise but also with a swollen cheek (which by the way my MIL insists makes me look nice and chubby – no comments on that!), nagging pain on the right side of the face till the forehead, and a high-cal diet on sweet cold liquids – ice-cream included (stopped counting the oodles of fat I’m putting on in the process).

Gosh! Whoever, said “Ignorance is bliss” was truly wise!

Don’t even get me started on the ordeal the actual surgical process was. I don’t make a very good patient, so I fussed about the blood on the doc’s gloves – he insists I should keep my eyes open – I told him he then needs to wash his hands or change the gloves – there was actually a piece of my bone hanging on his glove – apologies for the grotesque description but just to tell you how unreasonable he was being!

And then there was his assistant who had stinking flowers in her hair (a very common sight in namma Chennai :))– I was already so nauseated and the stench of withering jasmine was getting on my nerves. I told her to get rid of it and she was so shocked! I guess I was the first patient to have done that to her. Sorry lady, don’t take it personally.

The surgeon redeemed himself by first asking me where I was studying (lo behold, the joy in my heart that he thought I was so young :D) and then at the end, saying, “Sorry for the tough time”! Nice dude; I actually was polite enough to manage a ‘thank you’ with all the cotton stuffed in my mouth.

So, while on that deadly chair, I was reminded of this poem we had as part of our syllabus in Grade 10 (if I remember correctly) – written by Ogden Nash, it’s titled, ‘This is going to hurt just a little bit’. For all those who have had to deal with dentists, this poem is a must read! And here it is for your reading pleasure:

“One thing I like less than most things is sitting in a dentist chair with my mouth wide open.

And that I will never have to do it again is a hope that I am against hope hopen.

Because some tortures are physical and some are mental,

But the one that is both is dental.

It is hard to be self-possessed

With your jaw digging into your chest.

So hard to retain your calm

When your fingernails are making serious alterations in your life line or love line or some other important line in your palm;

So hard to give your usual effect of cheery benignity

When you know your position is one of the two or three in life most lacking in dignity.

And your mouth is like a section of road that is being worked on.

And it is all cluttered up with stone crushers and concrete mixers and drills and steam rollers and there isn’t a nerve in your head that you aren’t being irked on…”

Oh, some people are unfortunate enough to be strung up by thumbs.

And others have things done to their gums,

And your teeth are supposed to be being polished,

But you have reason to believe they are being demolished.

And the circumstance that adds most to your terror

Is that it’s all done with a mirror,

Because the dentist may be a bear, or as the Romans used to say, only they were referring to a feminine bear when they said it, an ursa,

But all the same how can you be sure when he takes his crowbar in one hand and mirror in the other he won’t get mixed up, the way you do when you try to tie a bow tie with the aid of a mirror, and forget that left is right and vice versa?

And then at last he says That will be all; but it isn’t because he then coats your mouth from cellar to roof

With something that I suspect is generally used to put a shine on a horse’s hoof.

And you totter to your feet and think. Well it’s all over now and afterall it was only this once.

And he says come back in three monce.

And this, O Fate, is I think the most vicious circle that thou ever sentest,

That Man has to go continually to the dentist to keep his teeth in good condition

when the chief reason he wants his teeth in good condition

is so that he won’t have to go to the dentist.”

[Image source: Google Images]