Today, I'll be posting something a little more personal than
my usual fare, following the removal of my wisdom teeth.
First and foremost, I am fine. I just can't have solid foods
the way I used to for a couple weeks.
The idea of having surgery performed on me was, I admit,
very stressful, and it was one of the contributing factors to my many late
updates for the last few months. I was utterly convinced that I was going to
die for a while. As it turns out, I'm terrified of surgery. So really, this
whole experience was one of self-discovery.
But all things considered, extraction of wisdom teeth is a
relatively safe procedure, with even elevated risks being no big deal in the
larger scheme of things.
So for those of you out there who might be either curious
regarding the procedure, or might need some reassurance for your own procedure,
or just what to hear what I was l like while hopped up on meds, this is the
story of the removal of my wisdom teeth.
About a year ago, my dentist recommended that they should
come out some time in mid-2016. They weren't impacted, or anything, but they
had no sense of personal space. And even with my regular flossing routine, they
could cause tiny food and drink particles to stick between my molars and weaken
the enamel.
And... yeah, I didn't follow my dentist's advice. I was put
off by the idea of surgery, and I instead opted to just try and floss and rinse
really well.
Two trips after that to get fillings in my worn-down molars was enough. I decided
those wisdom teeth were coming out.
Like most chronic worrywarts, I went online and found a
plethora of frightening articles about "the risks they don't tell you
about!" and so forth and suchlike. So that was a mistake.
I went to the recommended dental surgery guy, and he filled
me in on all the risks, And actually, there were surprisingly few, and they
were all comparatively minor, for surgery.
The big two possible problems are as follows.
1: The wisdom teeth have taken root. Permanently.
This applies to people past their mid-20s. So that worried
me, even though all that does is make them a little harder to get out.
2: The wisdom tooth root has become part of your sinuses.
This apparently occurs in about 1% of cases. And when it
happens... well, it's no big deal. They fix it.
He also told me that I would be getting local anesthesia (no
big deal there; not after my fillings) as well as sedation by IV drip, which is
considered a safer alternative to general anesthesia.
And yet, I left the consultation still terrified. What if I
had some negative reaction to the sedation? What if... well, I was basically
worried that anything that I had no power over could go wrong. It's at times
like this that I remember the words of Star Trek's Worf.
"Thinking about what you can't control only wastes
energy. And creates its own energy."
As a chronic worrywort, this advice has actually gotten me
through a lot of sleepless nights.
But as the days went by, I found myself unable to properly
focus on the NewtCave, as I'm sure many of you noticed. It took me much longer
than usual to get my posts up to a quality level I was happy with. That is,
when I could even find the willpower to work on them.
And then, the fateful day came. January 20th. Which just so
happened to also be Inauguration Day. As if that wasn't already bad enough.
I took my Valium at noon, one hour before my appointment.
That kept me nice and loopy between watching Judge Dredd and paying at the
front desk. Then they took me back, gave me an oxygen mask, hooked up the
laughing gas, and left me for a bit.
I was not calm. Every once in a while, the machine
monitoring my pulse would let loose a quick "beepbeepbeep" and flash
a warning about my CO2 levels. Yeah, that calmed me down just fine. (As it
turns out, they hadn't hooked up the thing it was trying to measure yet,
causing the machine to freak out.)
But they all filed in to begin the job, talking about the
inauguration and some of the funny things that people have been saying.
They found a vein in my hand and jammed in the IV the last
thing I really remember is being told that the sedation would sneak up on me.
And I guess it did, because the next thing I knew, my girlfriend was in the
room and Peter Frampton's "Show Me the Way" was playing on speakers
overhead.
Everything went as well as could be expected, with both my
wisdom teeth out with a minimum of fuss. (My bottom wisdom teeth don't exist. I
don't just mean they never came in, they do not exist and never have.) The
procedure was actually done in around half an hour, which is also the amount of
time I spent crying after the procedure.
Apparently, as they explained to my girlfriend, crying is
one of the side effects of whatever drug they gave me. And I'm not afraid to
tell you that I was bawling.
It was a very emotional moment for me, 50% because of the
drug, but 50% because I was so glad to be alive. Except... I was convinced for
the longest time that they hadn't actually done anything yet, since I didn't
remember them doing it. So you can add confusion to my simultaneous depression
and elation.
The first words I remember saying were "I like Peter
Frampton." I also remember that when they unhooked me from the monitor, it
started resuming its little beeping fit.
"Shut up, you don't know anything!" I said to the
monitor.
I asked the nurse about my blood pressure, which I was
apparently very concerned about, and then at some point, I told both my
girlfriend and the nurse to stop patronizing me. I remember being aware enough
to know that they were saying things like "Yeah," and "Uh-huh"
like you would do to a child, or... well, somebody who was delirious. Which I
was. I was also aware enough to realize that what I had said was rude, so I
ended up apologizing and telling the nurse that she had a nice bedside manner.
Speaking of apologizing, I apparently did a lot of that,
too. I don't exactly remember what for, though.
What I found most difficult, however, was getting up.
"Do you want to try standing up?" I was asked.
"I can't," I said. "I'm in a chair."
But miraculously, I found some way to my feet and was helped
to the car by the wonderful nurse who must have put up with a lot of grumpy, confused nonsense
from me, and I applaud her for it. She even helped me get my coat on.
I sobered up along the way to the pharmacy, where I mostly
lamented being unable to eat anything from all the delicious restaurants we
were passing. Sensing my frustration, my girlfriend reminded me that I had
bought some nice applesauce the other day to eat during my recovery.
I was not as enthusiastic as she was and decided to deliriously swear at
the idea of applesauce.
The trip to the pharmacy was uneventful, save for saying hi
to a worker there I went to high school with. The trip home was just as
uneventful, as were the various naps I took for a few hours.
I have to go back in a few days, and they'll take a look and
see how my sockets are healing up... but yeah, I'm doin' fine.
In order to distract myself from the fact that I can't eat
much more than soggy bread, broth, and room temperature yogurt for the time
being... well, I have little to do but work on the NewtCave and sleep.
But to keep from overexerting myself in any way, I'll be
taking the rest of this week off from new posts, although I will be using that
time to finally sort the posts from the end of last year.
Really, I just don't want to rush myself and fall into the
old trap of having to post things late.
Regular posts resume the 30th, and February 1st will feature
a schedule update which, since I won't be wasting time worrying about by wisdom
teeth, I might actually be able to keep for the first time in a while.
I know exactly what I'm posting the 30th, too. It's gonna be
a bit of a "Me Day" for a while. And since I already covered "Me
Day," I'll be looking at the Classic Doctor Who serial that I've been watching while I recover.
See you then!