Be careful what you wish for
Jump back a year or so, to one of my bi-annual dentist visits. They do one of those panoramic x-rays and then show me how all my lovely and expensive (thanks Mum) teeth are doing. So the hygenist or whoever is pointing out this and that and she says "and there's your wisdom tooth..." and I stop her there. Oh no, I say, I had my wisdom teeth taken out. When I was seventeen. It remains the worst physical experience of my life to date. "Oh well," she says looking rather confused, "I'll have to call in Dr. Dayan."
So she calls in my dentist, who has a look at the x-ray herself and says that yes indeed it looks like a fifth wisdom tooth. She's having dinner that night with the surgeon who pulled my other four, so she says she'll ask him about it. She tells me there's likely no rush, but I should get it checked out.
Finally, last week, I do go and get it checked out and the oral surgeon tells me that I really ought to get it out right away, that I'm already losing bone and I might lose the molar in front of it. He says it's impacted, even though I can't feel it at all. I'm freaked out about losing the tooth in front because I can unabashedly say that I have really nice teeth (they certainly cost enough already what with braces, headgear, retainers, and the rest).
So now I have surgery at 8:15am tomorrow. Just do an image seach on Google (that's where I got these images) and you'll find a whole bunch of hillarious/sorry-looking pictures of people post-op.
That'll be me tomorrow.
And then a weekend of a fat face and a liquid diet. What a way to start my March Break. At least I've got my knitting.