Impact!

Nah. Not my real X-ray, but you get the point anyhow. Somehow, my damn wisdom teeth waited until way, way, waaaaay late in life to start fucking around. So, this week, I tripped off to the dentist to bitch a bit about tooth and jaw pain, only to be told that there was nothing he could do about it, and then the dreaded "consult" came. Off to the oral surgeon, I did trundle.

Not that I expected it to be fantastic news, but jumping giraffes on pogo-sticks, I sure as hell wasn't prepared for the gloom and a doom that came next. First of all, it is really difficult to take anybody seriously when they are wearing one of those coal miner's set ups in broad daylight. I was bit fixated on that, when he started running down the numbers. One in ten chance of this going bad; one in five chance of that going bad. "You smoke? Well, just figure that this, this, and this is really going to jack you up..."

Oh yeah, and I am pretty much guaranteed nerve damage. At least bruising will cause me to lose sensation in my lower lip for six months. Maybe permanently. Especially on the right side, where it seems the roots have wrapped around the nerve.

So, shit.

On a lighter note, I do love the Vicodin.