I’m under the influence of heavy painkillers, so please disregard any typos, grammatical errors or moments of crudeness.
My wisdom teeth are gone and I am not sad at all. In fact, I’m relieved.
The Thursday procedure itself was not traumatic as I’d feared. My big brother was kind enough to be my transportation to/from the appointment and he kept me calm by joking about how he’d planned to write on my face with marker and rearrange the furniture in my house while I slept. Nice guy.
I was fine while they hooked me up to the monitors and stuck an IV in me. They even covered me with a fuzzy blanket because it was arctic cold in there, which I appreciated. I was joking around with the nurses despite being cranky from lack of food or coffee, but I did ask them to tell me when they were going to knock me out. The last thing I remember is breathing in the laughing gas and them placing a listening device on my throat. I asked what that was for and the assistant/nurse told me it was so she could hear any/all sounds I made during the procedure in an ear microphone that she had. I looked at the clock and it was 9:50am. And then?
I was waking up and there were multiple hands helping me move to a waiting/recovery area, where my brother soon joined me. While I waited for him, I started hiccuping. I remember being amused, because only I would be weird enough to get the hiccups at the dentist and why was I in this chair by myself and what was this rolling desk chair here for? It must be to put my feet up, so I think I’ll put my feet on it.
Then my brother came into the recovery area and he looked at me and instantly gave a small but sympathetic chuckle. He sat down next to me and asked how I felt. I said, “what do you mean? HICCUP. I’m not done yet. HIC.” Except I don’t know how he understood that because I was talking as if there weren’t four yards of gauze shoved in my cheeks. But he laughed and said, “No sweetie, you’re all done. They took them all out and it’s over.” I said, “MmmrhhghhHICCUPwhaaat?!?!” I grabbed his watch-clad wrist and twisted it so I could see the face. I squinted, hiccuped again, and saw that it was 10:35am. WTF. But they didn’t tell me to count back from ten, nothing… I was so confused!
I stared at him in shock and reached up to feel my face. It was dead. I felt nothing. But I could now understand that my mouth was stuffed with gauze and in fact, it was over. I did a quick self-check and found that I was not queasy or dizzy, my limbs all worked fine, my brain wasn’t foggy at all… I just couldn’t feel my face, lips, nose or tongue.
The kind nurses put me in a wheelchair that could have easily accommodated Shaq it was so big, and wheeled me over to the side door which my brother had pulled around to. He helped me into the truck and I pulled out my phone and started sending surprisingly coherent text messages to DR, Nette, Bertie and a few other friends who were checking on me. My brother couldn’t believe how awake and normal I was! As for me, I was just frustrated that I couldn’t talk and be understood. Damn gauze. I wondered then what I looked like, so I flipped down the visor mirror. And cracked up. I snapped a selfie immediately. You’re welcome. And pardon the sexiness.
Just after I took this shot, we walked into CVS to fill my prescriptions. I should win an award for my behavior. Why? Looking like ^^^^^ that, the pharmacy assistant who rang me up looked me dead in the face and with a perky fucking smile, asked in all sincerity, “Would you like to sign up for our CVS rewards program???” and beamed a smile at me. I stared at her with bloody gauze hanging from my numb lip and didn’t say a word. Looked at my brother. Looked back at her. Ohhhh, if I could have spoken it would have been a snarkfest, but thankfully my brother just gave a small snort and said politely, “Ummm… maybe another time would be better.”.
It took about 12-14 hours for the numbness to completely go away. And yes, the advice I received to be careful when I first tried to eat or drink anything was spot-on. It was HARD to take that first round of pills and feed myself. But I managed. Like a 2 year old. But I managed.
The numb goes away and is replaced by pain. It’s a dull ache, not a sharp pain, but it’s deeeeeep inside your face where there should be no hurts at all or EVER. Owwwch. I iced religiously. Made sure to eat before loading my system with antibiotics and painkillers. Was vigilant with hydration. And slept like the dead for as long as the pain was kept at bay. My diet has consisted solely of greek yogurt, banana, and PB smoothies with Jell-O pudding or applesauce.
Two days after surgery, my parents were in town and we ventured to not one but TWO potential wedding venues. Both turned out to be “likes” and not “loves”. That night was my nephew’s tenth birthday party on the family farm. By the end of that day I could barely keep my eyes open, I was so exhausted. Sunday was rest!
Now four days later, here is my current state: Tired of banana/greek yogurt/PB smoothies. Down five pounds. Pitifully wimpy about the constant ache in my lower right jaw where the impacted one lived. I have a yellow bruise on the right side of my jawline to show for that one. Wishing I could eat solid foods. Annoyed that I can feel the string ends on the stitches with my tongue. Worried I’ll develop dry socket even though I’m doing everything they told me to do to prevent it. Hating taking this many pills/drugs but grateful they 1. work and 2. haven’t upset my system too much, so far at least.
But the big picture is what I keep in mind. It will be done and over with soon enough. And at least I have my trip to New Jersey in a few days to keep me distracted while I finish healing. I cannot wait to see my love, my friends, my coworkers and show off my new ringbling to my Northern peeps.
Before I know it, I’ll be back in Atlanta and in that chair again for my post-op visit! Hope everyone else had a lovely weekend!