Everyone calls it oral surgery. I call it torture. Yesterday I had a tooth pulled out of my head and everybody was acting like that was completely normal. They even asked me if I wanted to look at my tooth! What!?! (I looked and will probably be freaked out by teeth for the rest of my life).
The positive part of this “oral surgery” a.k.a. torture is that my prayer life increased.
My biggest prayer was to not get sick while having the surgery. Being nineteen weeks pregnant, most women are over morning sickness, but not me. I prayed vigorously. But really who wants to go home and say they got sick all over a doctor who was trying to work in their mouth. Not me!
Aside from praying for a miraculous recovery from morning sickness, I began to have many prayers of thanksgiving. Some went like this, “Thank you Lord that I am not in the movie Cast Away because then I would have to use an ice skate to get this tooth out of my mouth.” Other prayers had even greater thanksgiving. “Thank you Lord that I am not living in Little House on the Prairie days! Because if I was, Pa would be holding a big rock or stick and would be telling me to hold still while he operated.” I cringe just thinking about Pa saying, “Ma, bring your sewing kit. She’ll need some stitches.”
With all of these things running through my head, I was able to thank God for even the numbing medicine they injected with needles. This is a big deal, because I really hate shots. But think about it what would they have used if this would have happened in the Stone Age? What if I would have had to put up with Ma’s home remedy as a pain-killer instead of taking Tylenol?
All in all I am thankful that I am alive today and that my tooth was safely taken out. As pain still pulses through my mouth, I remember what it was like before the tooth was gone. When my tooth was at its peak in pain, I was so tempted to drive myself to a local vet and ask them to put me out of my misery. It was so bad that I would have gotten on my knees and begged them to PUT ME DOWN!! Or put me to sleep, or whatever they want to call it. Thankfully Mark called the oral surgeon, which I agree was a better solution.
I am thankful that I wasn’t sick during the surgery. I am thankful I no longer have a tooth ache. And I will embrace my new chipmunk cheeks with a grateful heart.