Lacking a Little Wisdom

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 17^th 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.