dys· phem· is· tic Huh?

As I described previously in excruciating detail, I visited my primary-care dentist for a throbbing broken wisdom tooth on February 16th. Ordinarily he could take it out, he drawled, but my teeth require an oral surgeon's knife because the roots are wrapped tightly around my inferior alveolar nerve. I appreciate that since research I've done tells me that tearing up your inferior alveolar nerve results in at least a year of writhing agony.

But to do that, we first had to get the OK of my Dental Management Organization (which I won't name here because I want them to pay for this). I'm walking around with a gaping, bacteria-infested hole in the back of my jaw -- the ruins of my tooth -- while they deliberate. Anything, it seems, can set it off. Last weekend consisted of lying down, swabbing my tooth rubble with polysporin (which you're not supposed to do but I've discovered helps immensely), and gulping Codine/Tylenol pills.

Finally they made their leisurely decision: I can have all my wisdom teeth extracted this Wednesday with full IV sedation, for a mere $1765 -- that's with the insurance. Almost a full month after I saw the Dentist.

I have a feeling there will be further updates on this.