SEVERAL months ago, I discovered that both my bottom wisdom teeth were growing at a slant, or so I thought. If I chose to ignore them, they would cause damage to the neighbouring teeth.
A visit was paid to the dentist and I was told that an x-ray of my teeth was necessary.
“Please remove all your jewellery,“ ordered a nurse. Fumbling with my hands, I managed to take off my earrings.
Then, I approached a weird contraption with an irregularly shaped piece of plastic jutting out at the height of my mouth.
“Please bite the plastic,“ said the nurse in a monotonous tone.
As I did so, out of nowhere, a strange apparatus began to revolve around my head, circling like an alien spaceship.
Little did I know that it was the x-ray process because I expected to stand behind a huge rectangular screen before the x-ray was captured.
As I exited the room, the nurse handed me my x-ray film, which left me astounded as my wisdom teeth were not slanting, they were practically horizontal!
I decided to extract, not just my bottom two wisdom teeth, but the upper ones as well to avoid future problems.
The dentist then explained the entire procedure that would take place during the operation.
My gums would be sliced at all four corners, peeled back and the teeth extracted.
The surgery date was set, and she said “I‘ll see you soon!“ with a smile, displaying her two neat rows of pearly whites.
My nightmare began. All I could see was a shadow of a man with an evil smirk and a monstrous set of pliers heading for my mouth. Diabolical laughter drowned out my screams as he wrenched out my teeth.
Once, I even dreamt that the procedure was performed without general anaesthesia.
After many dreadful nights, it was the date of my appointment, my doomsday.
As I registered my name and sat down in the waiting room, nervousness overwhelmed me and I did not even realise when my name was called.
Up the elevator I went, to the first floor, bed no. 26. I changed into a blue hospital gown made of paper. I stared in horror at a girl as she was pushed into the ward on a gurney. Her face was so swollen it was as if she was attacked by a hive full of bees.
What made it worse was I had to undergo the same surgery. I have had a glimpse of my future, and would have loved to escape from it.
But before I could run out the door, my name was called.
With my hair caught up in a cap and little plastic bags covering my shoes, I entered the operating theatre.
Everything went lightning fast from then on.
One nurse took my blood pressure while a doctor attempted to find a vein on my left hand.
As a needle pierced my skin, I figured the worst was over.
Then I felt another needle in my right arm which turned out to be thrice as painful.
Things started to swirl, my eyes went blurry and I was out cold.
When I finally fluttered my eyes open, I was drowsy and my numbed mouth was stuffed with blood-soaked gauze.
Yet, there was a feeling of triumph as the wisdom teeth were finally gone, thanks to a caring Irish dentist with fantastic bedside manners.
However, the highlight of the day was when I saw a glorious bowl of vanilla ice cream in front of me.
The writer is studying at a high school in Ireland. She loves to try all things but is a Malaysian at heart.