ow.

I'm sitting on my couch right now, feeling awkwardly sore, sipping an odwalla, in the same clothes I've been wearing since Thursday. How did I get here, you ask? Let's see...

I think I'll start with the consultation, which happened a few days before new year's eve. We're not even going to get into the PPD research study I almost tried. 

Ever since last summer, my parents have been telling me I needed to get my wisdom teeth out. I knew it had to happen, I just wasn't all that excited about it. We sort of considered doing a research study where I would get paid, but we weren't positive I'd get actual pain meds (as opposed to a placebo), and it was confusing and I would have had to spend the night and...yeah. I'm scared enough of doctors' offices, etc. as it is. 

So this winter break, we went to a local dentist's office around the corner from my house.  The first thing we learned is that thanks to a spiffy genetic mutation, I only have three wisdom teeth. This is actually awesome news.  Why does that make a difference, you ask? Well, let me elucidate you. 

Wisdom teeth removal surgery is infamous for the "chipmunk cheek" aftereffect.  I learned that this was caused by the removal of the bottom wisdom teeth, whose growth affects the nerve running along the jawline. I was informed that since one of my bottom wisdom teeth just sort of...never happened (thanks, mom & dad!), I would have a sort of lopsided chipmunk effect. Which was fine with me, since half as much chipmunk also means half as much pain. :D

They walked us through everything, warning us about all possible side effects (or so we thought), showing us my x-rays and going over the whole half chipmunk effect and all that. They used a cgi program to show how they would go into my mouth, cut a flap of gum off from over the bottom wisdom tooth, pull it out, and replace it with a little marshmallow-looking thing that would dissolve naturally along with the sutures they would use to resew my gums back together. Awesome.

It all sounded fine, and they were being really nice and informative. The only problem was, they advised me to have it done as soon as possible, because the longer I waited, the deeper the roots would get. Ergo, I was supposed to have the operation before school started up in January.  Which meant I had to set aside a whole weekend to recovery. I finally settled on this one, setting the date for Thursday.

Before we go any further let me tell you something about myself. I really, really, really don't like shots. Like, at all. The pain doesn't bother me nearly as much as the knowledge that layers of skin and muscle and vein are being punctured with a hollow needle that will pump me full of something foreign. I understand that it's probably a good foreign thing, but still. You get the idea.

The big day arrives, so my mom drives me to the office. We go in, and in like, oh, say, a second or two, they call my name. I go into the back room, trying super hard not to psych myself out. Which is difficult considering they had trays of stuff, considerately covered by paper towels etc, but still, it was hard (for me) not to notice the FOUR SYRINGES underneath a paper towel on the counter. I had a mini-freak out before deciding that those were for my jaw, after I was knocked out. I knew for a fact they would give me anesthesia through an IV, so I'd be unconscious for the whole procedure. The problem there was that even an IV needle creeped me out. Thank god they promised they'd do it after they gave me laughing gas.

Which brings me back to the surgery room. So a nurse came in and told me to lay down in the chair, and they laid me all the way back. She put a laughing gas mask over my nose and told me to breathe deeply, and relax.  Which would have been easier if I hadn't been freaking out. I had assumed that the laughing gas mask would cover my nose and mouth, but it turned out to be just this little teensy thing over my nose. Which smelled funny.

The nurse told me I should be able to feel it after a minute or two, which...didn't happen. I asked if there was a specific way I should breathe to make it work better, like in through my nose, out through my mouth? maybe? but she glossed over my question with a, "Just breathe normally, same as you always do. Deep breaths."

So I was taking as many deep breaths as possible, because I sure as hell did NOT want to feel anything when the IV went in. About this time, the doctor walked in. He asked how I was doing, and what I'd had for breakfast this morning, to which, of course, my answer was, "nothing." which is what he wanted to hear. Since nobody wants to throw up during surgery.

The doctor told me that he'd cranked up the laughing gas to 100%, but I still felt exactly the same. He took my right arm and asked a nurse for a rubber band, any rubber band, and then reassured me that he wouldn't trick me about the IV, that we were "gonna stay friends through this whole thing." As he wrapped the rubber band around my arm, just above my elbow. tightly.

It was about that time that the nurse asked me If I was feeling the laughing gas, and I felt someone put rubbing alcohol on the crook of my elbow (is that what you call it? the crook? whatever). I said no, not yet, because I was honestly freaking out and even though i heard a chuckle in my throat as I answered, nothing seemed the slightest bit funny to me. I've heard from everyone else who's had laughing gas that you feel weird, or light-headed, or everything is hysterical.

And for the record, Susana, I did think about you, but I don't think I was high :/

So here I am spazzing about how the gas is NOT working, and I felt them pour some cold liquid onto my arm, and the nurse yet again asked me if the gas had taken effect as I felt a pinch on my elbow.  When I answered the nurse "not really," the doctor said, "well let me ask you another question: did you feel the IV?" my answer: "no, thank god."

It was about this point when I was wondering if anything was actually going to effect me. I hadn't felt the laughing gas and the anesthesia didn't seem to be doing anything either. Well, ok, I did feel a little weird. I felt them take my wrists and strap them to the chair, which was a little frightening, but I figured it was all part of the procedure. 

I felt like I blinked or dozed off for a second, and then I felt kind of funny. I thought, "maybe the laughing gas is finally taking effect..." but when I relaxed a little, I realized it wasn't laughter, it was tears.

That's right, I WAS FUCKING SOBBING.  It was about then that I realized that we were post-op, and it was all over. I overheard a nurse saying they should wait until I calmed down before letting my mom see me, which I would have argued had I not been busy trying to stop freaking out.  I sat up, but couldn't really focus. It was actually kind of annoying, me sitting there sobbing with them in the same room trying to simultaneously ignore me and wait out my crying jag. 

I guess I outcried their patience, because they finally brought my mom in anyway, explaining that "Sometimes people, girls especially, have emotional reactions to the anesthesia."  Which is cool and all, but how nice would it have been if they had warned me beforehand that it was totally possible (and normal) for me to cry after? I sure as hell wouldn't have been as upset if I had just known what was going on.

My mom looked pretty upset too, but they suggested she go get the car ready and waiting by the doors downstairs so the nurse could wheel me out. Let me tell you, that was probably the most awkward elevator ride of my whole life.  It was very obvious that none of the nurses really knew what to do with me and couldn't figure out why I hadn't stopped crying, so it was just sort of quiet in the elevator. Besides my occasional sobs. 

Anyway, the crying part didn't stop until I got home...after a few hours. I was sort of in and out of consciousness, numb and nauseous, thanks to el vicodin. Apparently I, much like my mom, do NOT react well to hydrocodone and so had to take anti-nausea pills along with it to prevent myself from vomiting.  At least it also made me sleep?

So that's basically it. All in all, I guess it could have been worse. I've been lounging around the house, bored out of my skull, with a dull pain on one side of my face. thank god for MTV and milkshakes! I think I'll go take a bubble bath.

  don't i look pleased? 

hey, guess which cheek it is! I'm rather proud, it's pretty hard to tell.

Will came over yesterday, which was a nice break from the monotony. only problem was: he effing cracked me up! which made my jaw hurt. but i just used more meds and ice and i was fine in no time. he also made me a super tasty milkshake, "with love."

oh and the bubble bath was lovely, thanks for asking.

update: today, sunday, i ate real (non-liquid) food for the first time!! it was tasty chef boyardee. and one of the stitches sort of half came out, so it feels like a hair tickling the roof of my mouth, constantly. boy i cant wait till it just dissolves already...

More later, maybe.