When we’re six, we get our first set of molars. When we’re 12, we get our second set. I had my 12-year molars removed a while back, but the dental oncologist decided that one of my 6-year molars – a workhorse that’s served me perfectly for 54 years, had to go. Not that it’s shot – it has more time to serve – but it’s showing signs of root problems. After radiation, my jaw will loose its vascularity (blood flow) and it will no longer be possible to do dental surgery that involves the jaw, nor will I be able to have dental implants. If I need to lose a tooth in the future, it’ll have to “exfoliate” naturally (wiggle free slowly over time). To avoid that hassle, dental oncologists try to figure out which teeth will need to come out in coming decades to prevent that problem before it starts.
Anesthesia is a modern miracle. Today I went to sleep in a dentist’s chair and woke up 45 minutes later none the wiser, while a surgeon yanked that molar right out of my head. Went home chewing on gauze, and with prescriptions for antibiotics and pain relievers. I had braced myself for a really painful recovery, but it’s really no big deal. Grateful to live in this age of modern medicine.