It's Like Having Teeth Pulled

Well, today I had my wisdom teeth removed, all four of them. Only two were in dire need of being removed but I figured, much to the delight of both dentists (my regular dentist referred me to a dentist more accustomed to performing this procedure), since I will already be suffering from two gaps in my mouth, why not make it an even four. Four is a great number anyhow and seems to have some connection to my life overall.

I had very little fear at all going into this procedure since they were going to administer a general anaesthetic so I wouldn't feel a thing. After all, I had recently been given an anaesthetic when I had the gastroscopy done and have fond memories of that situation. Even though I learned a few things from that, this dentist visit was nowhere near as pleasant.

The morning started out okay. I got to the office in lots of time and did not have to wait that long before I was shown to the chair. The nurses were nice and explained things to me nicely. But then they started into things. After attaching the BP monitor, the burses gave me laughing gas. When they were describing it to me, the gas sounded nice but that was not the case for me. Instead of being relaxing it made me a little panicky. Flashbacks of some movie I saw at an all-night drive in back in high school attacked my mind and prevented me from enjoying the drug (sorry I can't remember the title as I was comfortably numb at the time).

One of the nurses eventually asked if I was okay and I quickly responded in the negative. They reduced the amount of gas being pumped out and I heard the dentist, who had recently entered the room, make a comment about the way nitrous oxide affects people differently and then there was nothing. I woke up in a different room, not sure how I got there (thankfully this was the first time in my life I have ever been a victim of this) and the nurse went to get my mom and baby Alan so I could leave.

This is where my teachings from the gastroscopy came to my assistance. When the nurse told me to sit up and put on my shoes, I didn't rush to it like it was my first panty raid, oh no, I took my sweet ass time as if I was a bottle of wine in the process of being aged to perfection. I would like to think I saved myself a little embarrassment today. I eventually got up, with a mouth that felt like it ballooned to astronomical proportions, stumbling like a drunk with a nurse acting like my friend who drew the short straw and had to help me to my car.

Thankfully that was over but now comes the hardest part, the healing process. The post-op instructions say I must eat but then goes on to say I can only eat soft food. The list they so nicely provided consisted of pudding, yoghurt, jell-o, ice cream (I can live with this one), pasta (overcooked pasta at that I am sure) and eggs. No steaks, pork chops, chicken breasts, ham, or anything that resembles real food. So I have to suffer for at least 48 hours (isn't that a movie title) and possibly 72 hours without real food and I will have to be careful what and how I eat until my mouth is properly healed. All this just so I can floss. Hardly seems worth it now but I guess it is still better than dentures at age 35.

Side note: I finally went to see the specialist again yesterday to get the results from the gastroscopy and it seems I am not dying nor is there a nice quick easy fix for my problem. Nope. I will just have to lose weight and hope that solves it. I guess my liquid diet will help this out.