I’ve known for almost 2 years now that my body was going
through some changes. No, not puberty (aka, the worst 7 years of my life). This
was a series of changes that indicated to me the pressing onset of adulthood:
pain, growth, and the looming threat of un-affordable medical bills. Glancing at my sad little excuse for a pun in
this posts title should tell you the content of this fun-filled anecdote:
wisdom teeth and their inevitable excavation from my mouth.
I have scheduled several (3 or 4) dental appointments in the
past, hoping to rid me of my excessive wisdom once and for all, only to be
disappointed when I kept being turned away after they checked out my x-rays.
The bottom two teeth were impacted, and that caused every dentist I met with to
doubt their skills and attempt to shove me towards the surgical unit at the
closest hospital. Not such a fun process, might I add. So, needless to say,
when I visited my current dentist for the first time I expected to hear more of
the same.
Dr. Paul (don’t let the name fool you, very much a Chinese
man) and his lovely wife run Paul’s Dental Clinic, a new practice conveniently
located a mere 15 minutes from my
school. As the Western-sounding name suggests,
both Dr. Paul and his wife, Jihuan, speak English. Dr. Paul learned while
getting his BA in China (where he met his wife) and Jihuan’s English was
particularly polished from attending a Canadian University to get her MA in
dentistry. So, it was a great blessing for me that I could understand
everything they wanted to tell me about my procedure, which is always a
potential worry for me living overseas.
The big day comes…I’m a bit anxious. I’ve never had surgery
before, at least, not until February 6, 2016, and it’s a challenge to imagine
the process of having something violently removed from your body if you don’t
have any previous experience to compare it with. I mean, c’mon. I’ve never even
had a cavity or a filling. That in itself is a miracle when you consider how
inconsistent my personal dental hygiene was as a child. I still don’t
understand why dentists ask children anything. Of course I don’t brush my
teeth. But that’s not going to stop me from telling you that I brush 5 times a
day when you ask me…
Since we’re on the topic of my wisdom teeth, time for a fun
fact (don’t let the word “fun” there skew your expectations into thinking this
piece of knowledge will actually get you somewhere in life or make you more
popular at parties). Your wisdom teeth have been referred to in that whimsical
way since the 17th century. The name comes mostly from the fact that
these teeth (unlike your primary set…let’s call them the A-Team) don’t arrive
until you’re older, between 17-25, and hopefully a bit wiser than you were in
your more formative years. I’m not sure about you, but I personally know some
individuals whose wisdom teeth I’d like to rename…
Getting to the surgery...there’s this reoccurring mindset in
Asia that Chinese are very different from their Western neighbors. Now, this
concept wouldn’t be that surprising if it was merely chocked up to their outer appearance,
diet, and overall way of life (that’s “culture” for you classy cats who went to
college). Nope, the Asian community, at least the one located in the Middle
Country, believe that when it comes to medicine, pain, and cold foods (but let’s
leave that for another post) that the Chinese are more delicate and often
cannot/should not (depending on who you ask) experience everything Westerners
do…at least not in the same way. My surgery is a prime example of this.
For starters, most people I’ve conversed with from the states
who have had this operation were given laughing gas. YouTube is filled with
video after video demonstrating the entertaining side-effects of being given this
drug for surgery. I was informed that I would have access to laughing gas, so I
was slightly less worried when I arrived. However, during the surgery I
discovered an interesting thing: in China, they only give you enough gas to
make you feel calm and relaxed. You do not fall asleep.
Ok, that’s kind of a scary concept. It turns out that after
your body begins to calm down the dentist administers a series of local
anesthetic shots. I think I had around 10 throughout the entire procedure. The
first handful were the worst, feeling like bee stings deeply hitting my gums,
but it wasn’t too bad yet. Within minutes they were doing their job and my
mouth was effectively numbed.
Let’s get to the worst part, shall we? Immediately after my
surgery, I tried my best to communicate (in intermediate pantomime…my face was
still very much numb, my bottom lip swollen, and gauze was stuffed in my mouth)
with my boyfriend that our future offspring should not have this experience in
China. Why? Well, the patient care was great. The facility was clean. And, the
dentists were very skilled in their handiwork. The worst part? I was awake the
whole time. The good news was the anesthetic did its job throughout the whole operation.
However, my ears, brain, and eyes were perfectly functional.
The sound of metal clicking, clinking, scraping, and
uprooting teeth is not a friendly one. I realized after about 20 minutes in
that this consistent noise would really start to affect me if I didn’t do
something to take my mind off of it. So, I periodically opened my eyes.
Ok, when I told some people that I would open my eyes I was
questioned as to what I possibly could have been thinking. Did I want to see
the surgery? The blood? The tools? Not exactly. You see, there was a TV monitor
rigged to the ceiling displaying scenes in nature accompanied by light
orchestra music. Nice, right? Well, the problem was I had to be super intent on
focusing solely on the few inches of the screen I could see, because the
operation light and two sets of hands were constantly blocking me from this
proverbial “zen” experience. So, let’s just say I saw a couple toucans,
alligators, many trees, and every dental instrument they used in my mouth. So
much for “zen”…
The surgery was long, and my impacted teeth put up a good
fight (hence the 3 hours it took). Looking back I can appreciate having both
Jihuan and Dr. Paul in that room. In fact, periodically, Jihuan would check to
see how I was doing, commend me for being a “good girl,” and (my personal
favorite) brag about how good of a dentist her husband was.
*After
completing the first two teeth in 30 minutes*
“This would
take new dentist 1 hour or 1 hour and 30 minutes, but not Dr. Paul. He is very
skilled.”
*After
wrestling with my last impacted tooth for over an hour*
“This tooth
has a lot of wisdom. But, Dr. Paul has more.”
(I think you get the point. It was pretty cute, and I can
honestly say that Dr. Paul’s wife is his biggest fan.)
My biggest challenge now is simply to recover. I can tell that my
dentists did a great job. I haven’t experienced pain so much as mild discomfort
and an overall “icky” feeling in my mouth. I can’t chew, and probably won’t
attempt to do so for a while, but I am sustaining myself on yogurt, applesauce,
and soup. Feeding myself has become a bit of a chore, but I am definitely not
complaining. The worst part of this ordeal was the surgery, and I only have to
go through that once. Check. Done. Now, I can recover and look forward to my
next adventure in China.
