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When asked to describe me in a word I found that the vast number of my friends, after biting back the initial impulse of simply saying 'insane' or some synonym of such, decided that the best word was either pragmatic or cynical. That was being nice. People who weren't my friends went for things like pessimistic and mean and bitchy and psychotic. You may find this strange (or maybe you don't) but that's me, essentially. I'd probably be more apt to go with the harsher words, personally, but that's probably just me being pessimistic, psychotic, bitchy, and cynical about myself.

So earlier this week, both of the wisdom teeth on the right side of my mouth decided they would attempt to come in. And by attempt I mean there is no real room for them to do so. Happy teeth in a jaw that's big enough delightledly occupy nice level spaces, but all the level property in my mouth is taken, leaving the wisdom teeth with crappy like... mountside that they have to cling to. Okay so, next thing to think about is the fact that the hinge of your jaw is not a gentle curve, it's a hairpin turn. Those teeth both trying to grow in and bumping into each-other actually force my jaw apart and eff up the hinge of my jaw on that side, which is effed up to begin with because I have lockjaw. It's quite painful.

So yesterday I complained and yesterday I got an appointment for a consult with the oral surgeon and today I went for the consult. It went well, I got X-rayed. The doctor then spent half an hour explaining to me what my teeth were doing, which I'd pretty much figured out on my own, from the pain and why taking them out was not a 'cosmetic' decision (which is not something my insurance company would cover, for the record). Then he explained the procedure and the risks and such and asked if I'd like to be put out. I said YES. Then he had an interesting analogy for anesthesia (which I have previously experienced, didn't really need the lecture) that didn't really work on me for the following reasons: I don't watch tv, I don't watch sports, I am not a sports fan, and we don't own a couch.

Then we went to get an appointment with the receptionist, which was fun, because as it turns out there was a cancellation so I'll be going in for surgery tomorrow. Bright and early, too.

So my cynicism automatically jumped to all the horror stories I've heard about getting wisdom teeth out. That it hurts terribly, that you have to wash the holes out after you eat, that they accidentally eff something up inside your head, that they find something horribly wrong with you. My cynical pragmatism prepares me for the worst so that I will hopefully be surprised by a decent experience. For the time being I am re-labling this as having low standards. I'll live if shitty stuff happens, I'll be happier if it doesn't happen.

So instead of 'knowing' shitty stuff will happen I'm only aware of it. I'm really hoping, and focussing on the desire that a real great story will come out of this. After all when you mix my personality and the narcotics they're putting me on for pain something good better come out of it. Otherwise I might have to take it out on someone, which could be a story in itself....