L.B. and I returned home almost two weeks ago. Sometimes we are not the best at finishing our documentation projects, but we promise you that the remainder of our vacation was delightful.
We are now embarking on the second adventure of this summer:
The One With E.'s Mother-Dentist Extracting Her (E's) Wisdom Teeth
L.B. has it easy this time. He doesn’t even have to open his mouth. (Which he can’t, by the way.) Though he has graciously (ha) agreed to join me for the After Party. Of course. We’re planning to forage for smoothies and watch movies.
But the After Party must wait until after The Present Procedure. Minor oral surgery is not horrible compared to some procedures, but everyone has their own cross to bear, and for the next twenty-four hours, this one is mine.
I feel so afraid tonight.
The night before is always agonizing.
Granted, I’m not paralyzed by fear. Today I cooked up two batches of pureed vegetable soups for my recovery time. I reorganized the living room. I accidentally broke a lamp. I taught my violin student this morning. I even recited several positive affirmations about having my wisdom teeth removed. (I am my mother’s daughter.)
But I still feel afraid, even though everyone tells me not to feel afraid. I think it is that kind of fear that you cannot reason or positive-think away. Perhaps because it is a very real and natural response to the knowledge that you are about to undergo something that will inevitably cause you some pain. I can’t avoid it. General anesthesia is not an option for me, so I will have to consciously experience the procedure, though thankfully with the use of a local anesthetic.
I have never had my wisdom teeth removed before, and the unknown is terrifying at times. Especially when the unknown is dappled with little bits of known. Little memories of past experiences involving pain.
…Perhaps this anxiety is similar to how one feels before giving birth for the first time? …I wouldn’t know.
This will be a new experience!
Little Bear is little, and I am little, too.
Little Bear wears trousers, and I wear trousers, too.
Little Bear is filled with fluff, but I am filled with flesh and bone and blood.
We do not feel like equals tonight.
But Jesus was of flesh and bone and blood,
(Or He…still is?)
And His flesh was pierced and He bled.
…And in a very small way, my flesh will be pierced and I will bleed, too.
Maybe this is what it means to share in Christ’s agony and suffering.
Oh, I know, it’s not the exact same thing. Hopefully I won’t feel the cutting…But I must still wait for the operation tomorrow, and I still feel some dread and fear. A bit of fear. And a bit of hope. Perhaps enough to make me courageous.
I’m excited for the After Party.
And Little Bear and my sister will be waiting for me.
But until then, tonight brings waves of A Bit of Agony.