I got my molar pulled today. I wasn't particularly sorry to see it go. It had been a very bad tooth for a very long time. Over the years it's cost me a ton of money and delivered some of the worst pain of my life, and its final stage as a ragged ham trap always made me feel less than attractive.
The extraction itself was quick, easy, and painless. I had a little chuckle when I exited through the waiting room and smiled at the other patients around the huge bloody wad of gauze I'd been given to bite down on. They did not smile back.
The whole thing was so easy that I didn't understand why I felt so tired and, well, bereft after I got home. I moped around for a while and finally took a nap.
When I got up and commented that I felt pathetic for feeling so low, Eric pointed out that, however minor, it was surgery that I'd just had. Then he cooked me an egg and I took a couple of Vicodin, and aside from feeling a little sore and stupid, everything's been pretty dreamy since. Oh, and I had some peach Jell-O a little while ago. That was okay.