wisdom tooth

It’s kind of a big deal.

Change.

It really screws up your perception of what is and what was and makes you incredibly vulnerable to the eerie realization that we are far more fragile than we think. Or, maybe that’s just me. And the gaping hole that for 24 years was home to my upper left wisdom tooth.

Today was the big day. It was the day that the oral surgeon in his pale blue gown came at me with the dreaded needle, knife and blade or whatever unimaginable extracting instruments one uses to yank someone’s tooth out. And to be fair, the whole procedure was far less frightening than I imagined thanks to those three hefty shots of Novocain leaving me good and numb. But what I find more disturbing is what remains: that hollow space in the back of my mouth which my tongue persistently continues to graze itself against almost as an ominous reminder that something that was by nature an integral part of me is now, well, gone.

Ok, sure, I am steering a little bit on the dramatic side. After all, almost everyone I talk to seems to relate their own personal horror stories about parting with not only one, but all four of their precious impacted wisdom teeth at the same time. I, on the other hand, seem to have taken the easy way out. Or, perhaps, the more unpleasant since in due time, the other three will most likely cause me another special trip to the oral surgeon.


It’s not really just about my tooth though, although tell that to my roaming tongue.

Having a wisdom tooth pulled out extends far deeper than the roots (pardon the cliché). There is something so ghastly permanent about it all. So finite. It seems that as we get older, more and more sweeping changes begin to take place. Diplomas acquire dust in their frames, friends pick up and move away, careers get started, relatives get sick and the fleeting fragments of childhood seem to faintly disappear.

Time forges ahead whether we are ready to quicken our pace or not and as hard as I keep fighting against the uncertainty and bewilderment concerning the future, the clock refuses to wait for me to catch up.

The removal of my first wisdom tooth today may have symbolized one traumatic change, but this event surely will be overshadowed by the more pressing changes propping up in the next several months; changes in terms of moving out, finding jobs, navigating my path, my future. During this year alone, I have watched a myriad of friends move in with their significant others, begin their second or third job and even acquire real estate. While they are all off accomplishing these very grown up feats, I am, well, getting my tooth pulled knowing that my parents are loyally sitting in the waiting room.

So, I suppose it’s my turn to hop on the mid-twenties band wagon, take the plunge and while we are on the subject of teeth, open wide.

AHHHHH.