Who wants their teeth done by the Marquis De Sade?
The aftermath of getting my wisdom teeth removed.
I don’t know about you, but when I think of going to the dentist I think of something like this..
So think of a ridiculously long time to have not gone to a dentist and then add five to ten years and you might come up with the number of year’s it’s been since I have been. My parents never made me go when I was younger and so I never got in to going and then I was afraid and then I was embarrassed and it all accumulated into a whole mess of an unhappy mouth.
But when, a year ago, one of my wisdom teeth started cracking I promised myself that if it cracked any more I would go…and when it cracked a little more some months later I promised myself that if it cracked any more I would go…and when it cracked a little more some months later I promised myself that if it cracked any more I would go…
And then about a month ago I started feeling the most excruciating pain I’ve ever felt in a different wisdom tooth…so much so that I’d really felt like taking a pair of pliers and pulling my teeth out one by one I figured that it was probably about time I faced my fears of a dentist ripping out my teeth and causing me pain…
So last Tuesday I made an appointment. He couldn’t fit me in for a cleaning but made an appointment to get an X-ray to see what was wrong. They had a hard time getting an X-Ray of that tooth so I did a crazy thing where I stuck my head in this thing and bit down on something and then it circles my head and got my whole mouth. He determined what I figured was necessary anyways, that I should probably get all four out, since one was cracked, another in pain, and the other two slightly impacted. I was happy that he just seemed to be helpful. My biggest fear at that point was having a doctor chastise me for having horrible teeth and not seeing a dentist. But he was nice. Maybe he’ll be meaner when I go back for a cleaning and he sees how bad the rest of my teeth are.
So I made an appointment with the oral surgeon for a consultation on Monday. It took about 3 minutes. He was crazy hyper and asked if I wanted to be put under. I said “YES!” (I actually had much internal debate over it because I had never had general anesthesia before and was kind of afraid I wouldn’t make up or I would be allergic or something. But I also didn’t think I could go through with it if I was able to hear them and see them throughout the process.) So he said “When? Tomorrow?” And I said Okay because I wanted to get it over with…but then I was faced with the seriously hardest part of the whole thing: trying to find someone who could pick me up. If it was a few weeks ago Mat could have probably done it, but he just took on a second day job. I thought maybe Eric because he doesn’t work full time but he had family in town and they were going to a Cubs game. Luckily I have the most awesome roommate in the world and Heather said she could take a few hours off to come get me.
So Tuesday I went in to get it done and over with. And, let me tell you, general anesthesia is the most awesome thing in the world. I went in the room, the doctor came in, he stuck a needle in my arm and I leaned back and thought “huh, I wonder how long that takes to kick in…”
From there I kind of remember a moment like out of a movie where I was sitting there still and people were moving crazy quick around me. And I kind of remember staring at a wall and the TV and lightswitch were slowly melting down the wall. And I kind of remember a guy getting me off of a chair and asking if I could walk. And I kind of remember another woman taking my hand and leading me to a room. And then I was lying on a little bed in a little room and everything in it was moving. And then everything was still and was awake. Then I just waited for Heather to get there and we went home.
I hurt a little afterwards. But no matter how much pain I was in it was nothing compared to what I was feeling before. I surprisingly wasn’t tired afterwards but I just spent the day lying on the couch drinking chicken broth and apple juice and watching the TV. Later though the vicodin started making me tired and nauseous. But I managed to make it through Idol and Glee and then took some more and went to sleep.
And then this morning I ate PUDDING! Lots and lots of pudding! Because I could eat thicker liquids and figured pudding counted towards that. I was happy.
And now I am eating tomato soup.
They still hurt a little but, again, it’s much better than it was before. And my head hurts a little mainly because I haven’t had Coke or Coffee in a couple of days. I suppose I could but I don’t want to push it.
Tomorrow I can eat eggs and mashed potatoes and then Friday I am supposedly able to start my real diet again. Like how all I care about it when and what I get to eat? Seriously, as soon as I am told I can’t eat real food I just start craving hamburger.
And boy do I want a hamburger.