It turned out to be a bigger deal than I thought.
Armed with painkillers and antibiotics, I left the hospital looking like a stroke victim - the right side of my face sagging downwards.
The doctor and nurses had packaged me in blue protective clothing, even my head, leaving my mouth open and a small slit for my eyes so I could be aware of Dr Doom's approach.
It wasn't the glorified dentist's visit I had imagined but a proper operation.
But they were kind, even when I drooled and slurred my words afterwards, and shook the doctor's hand with clammy palms.
A weekend of studying and recuperation awaits.
Everything is going to be a-okay.
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