Wisdom Tooth Adventure

I'm back in Seattle after spending Thursday night til this afternoon in East Wenatchee. I had all four wisdom teeth taken out, and whoo-boy, was that fun.

I got laughing gas for the first time ever. I tried really hard to continue to make sense while the nurses prepped me and talked to me. I think I did an okay job, although I might have lost them when I started to talk about the multi-line phone program I have at work. They also gave me an anti-nausea medication through the IV, so there was no puking-- thanks, Cameron, for that scare. So, that was nice.

Back to the laughing gas.

I didn't think I was getting terribly sleepy or light-headed until all of the nurses, except one, left the room. Have you ever been taking a test and suddenly remembered something absolutely hilarious? And you obviously weren't in a setting where you could tell someone else what was funny or even laugh out loud? That was the feeling I got, only there was no joke or specific incident. I controlled myself enough not to burst out laughing or tell the nurse that something (and I don't know what) was really funny.

After that, I think I just closed my eyes and fell asleep for most of the procedure. The doctor, Dr. Collins, told me beforehand that even if I woke up, I would be in a place where I didn't care what was happening. I was skeptical, but it proved true. I woke up somewhere between the second or third tooth, and I was aware of everyone talking and some poking and prodding going on. I don't remember many specifics because, like the doctor said, I just didn't care. I couldn't feel anything anyway.

I do recall the crew moving on to the final tooth: the sideways impacted lower left tooth. I remember some noise and prodding, and then the doctor saying, "...we're going to have to go in at a different angle." Thanks, tooth. When I looked in the mirror later in the afternoon, I noticed the left corner of my lip was busted up. I wonder why.

After the procedure, most of the operating team left. They took me off the gas, and I slowly regained consciousness (uh, sort of). The entire time, soothing piano music was playing, so it was kind of like I woke up during a dream sequence (that doesn't make sense, but whatever). When I left the office, a nurse and my 90-year-old father helped me out the door (that's just funny).

I spent the next several hours unable to talk, since the entire lower half of my mouth was numb. I watched Pirates of the Caribbean and tried to drink some juice. I say "tried" because the first attempt ended with half the juice on my sweatshirt. The rest of the day went like this: ice, couch, mashed potatoes, and TV.

Saturday went more like this: Vicodin, TV, 5-hour nap, and hang-out time with Tanja. We got DQ Blizzards (om nom nom), went to Hastings and Macy's, and got some potato snacks at Shari's. I chose potato pancakes; she got baked potato skins. Yay for carbs.

Sunday was a bit more exciting. I went to Old Navy and Target with my mom, and I picked up some new shirts and a set of flannel sheets. Score! Then I plopped down on the couch and watched the all-day Man v. Food marathon.

Yesterday, I watched more TV (duh) and eventually drove myself to Wenatchee. I went to Kinko's and finished copying some material for grad school applications. Afterward, I tried a new restaurant, Spring Lotus, because I was craving pho. It was excellent, and I drove home with warm soup belly (HIMYM fans, you feel me on that one?).

That brings me to today. Went to a post-op check-up, took a nap, packed up, and got on the bus back to the west side. I apparently conked out somewhere before Stevens Pass and woke up in Gold Bar. Then I drove home to Seattle and did some grocery shopping. Mundane, but necessary.

Anyway. It's time for soup and mashed potatoes. And ice cream. Oh, how I love thee, ice cream.

Moral of the story: Painkillers make me sleepy. And I love potatoes. Is that good enough? I have no insight for you, sorry.