I don’t want to have an operation. Even a little one.
I know all the rational reasons why I need to have it, I know that if I leave it, the situation will get worse not better. That ignoring my wisdom teeth, hoping that they’ll never cause me any grief has been a reasonable strategy so far, but not a fool proof one. I know that wisdom tooth has to come out, because it’s going to be an issue.Well, more than it currently is.
I still don’t want to have it out.
To be honest, I really like the oral surgeon. He had a great manner and he listened to all the concerns I had, put at ease about most of them, if I’m honest. He didn’t insist on anything I didn’t want, didn’t suggest that I should be doing things according to him. I got the final say. I liked that.
He’s still going to cut into my jaw tomorrow.
My gut is telling me that I don’t like the idea of it. It’s churning furiously. Telling me that, just in case, perhaps food en masse is a bad idea. Nausea to ward me off anything too much. A friend told me I looked busy today, which isn’t exactly the case, but I am frazzled.
I’ve told everyone that I’m fine. And I am. But still, there’s that little voice in the back of my head that says ‘You haven’t been through this before. You don’t know what’s coming. Be afraid.’ I’m trying to picture Umbridge saying it to tell her to sod off, that I’m braver than that, but still.
So I might not be writing so frequently in the next week.
Depending on how all of this goes.
I’m sure it’ll be fine.