Helen Martin’s Blog

My bottom wisdom teeth never caused me much trouble to speak of, but it was only a matter of time. My dentist and the oral surgeon agreed (and I trust them both) that I should be rid of them. They were sideways (impacted) and I’m not seventeen, so my roots were maxed out on length, etc.; You can imagine.

The doc was great. [Steven Rodenburg.](http://www.theoralsurgerycenter.com/docrodenburg.htm) He’s very bright, thorough in his explanations, and has a great beside manner. Go to him.

Wisely, he gave me laughing gas for a few minutes first. (I don’t want to give the impression that I’m a huge baby, but I would have nitrous oxide for dental cleanings if it was acceptable to ask.)

As the needle went in my arm, Doctor Rodenburg said I was being a great patient. (Did I mention the laughing gas?) And then…

The first thing I remember was someone saying, “Helen, open your eyes,” over and over and over again.

My beloved later told me that when he came into the little room to sit with me, I was crying. And had been crying–a lot, judging from the wet pillow case. That explains why the second thing I remember hearing is someone telling him, “This is normal, especially for girls and women”.

I’ve been resting all day. I feel pretty sore, but I’ll survive. Especially if I can somehow remember not to lift anything heavy and not bend over.

I am so thankful for pain meds and penicillin. And to be living in this time when things can be done so well. And that having good insurance and a flex-plan, not being pregnant, not being broke, and finding an oral surgeon who inspired confidence instead of dread all converged at the same time! I’m so glad to be rid of those teeth! (And hey, they sent me home with a pint of Cold Stone Choc Full ice cream!)

You know what Ken did? He went out (twice) to get me soft foods, and brought up some really good tomato soup and thought of adding some chopped up basil; so he picked basil from our garden (even though he wasn’t “quite sure he picked the right stuff”) and served it to me in bed.

He really loves me. I’m so utterly delighted to be married to him.

And, man, I’m so stoned. (OK, I’m kidding. Not for another three minutes or so.)