Drugs. Mashed Potatoes. Ice Cream. Drugs. SpaghettiO’s. Drugs. Drugs.
This is what has consumed my life for the past four days. Not because I’m a junkie, but because I have gone through the common procedure of having my wisdom teeth pulled out of my mouth.
On a Tuesday morning I woke up early and dressed for oral surgery, which consisted of sweatpants and a t-shirt that I didn’t mind getting blood and slobber on. I drove with my mother to the oral surgeon where I signed papers, giving them permission to perform the procedure while I was completely unconscious. The possible outcomes of the surgery may also include jaw breakage, brain damage, bone damage, and death. All because of four stinking teeth, I was risking my life!
As my first surgery ever, I did not know what to expect. They put all kinds of things on my body that I assumed were to ensure I didn’t die while they surgeried me. The nurse held my hand as they secured an I.V. and injected anesthesia into me. Everyone in the room talked about the humid weather on Saturday as drugs pumped through me, incapacitating me. Wouldn’t you guess, Rob, the doctor and nurses asked about my tattoos and I tried explaining them, saying, “It’s cuz…I’mma be….a wr…writer…”
That’s when I lost two hours of my life. When I woke up, I was in a different room with a red-headed lady and my mother. I don’t know what they asked me. I don’t know if I said anything. All I know is I ended up in the car and then home and then my boyfriend was there with ice cream and I pulled my bloody gauze out and plopped it in his hand and he ran away and hasn’t spoken to me since.
Not really, but I wouldn’t blame him if he had. I was told later that in the recovery room I had asked if I’d gotten any e-mails and I asked my mom if she could send my mom in. It was all very ethereal and I’m still not even sure what they did to me. The doctor could have implanted a chip into my mouth that causes me to join a robot army of other people with supposed “wisdom tooth oral surgery”. Did the doctors and nurses fling my arms around and take videos of me with weird hats on while I was unconscious? They could have, for all I know.
So here I am in the recovery process, watching Cupcake Wars and Four Weddings for hours on end while I take pills every four to six hours that make me sleep for two hours, with ice packs on either side of my face. I thought I would enjoy the two days off with an excuse to watch trash TV. Turns out the pain outweighs the lounging around and I would rather be in the office or doing chores.
The drugs help a lot…strong painkillers can work wonders. However, taking them is all fun and games until the dosages get too close together and the toilet bowl holds the mush based diet I’ve been on.
I’m never eating SpaghettiOs and cupcakes ever again.