Ah, sweet relief, the teeth are gone. That would be teeth numbers 1, 15, 16, and 30: my impacted upper wisdom teeth, the broken molar next to one of those teeth, and the root canal that didn’t have enough tooth left to restore somewhere in the bottom right of my mouth.
I was so scared of getting this done, and yet when they were finished the only thing that came to mind was, “wow, that was kind of fun.” I was oblivious to the actual work they were doing despite the fact that I was not under general anesthesia. I do not know what drugs they put in that IV, but they did their job well. The dentist said I shouldn’t experience much pain, but will be sore and swollen for awhile.
You know, I put up with increasing jaw pain for more than a decade because of these two dudes. And now they are gone. Outta here. Caput. These upper wisdom teeth of mine have been the roadblock to orthodontics, and to finishing other work I need to get done in my mouth. I might actually end up with a healthy mouth some day soon – because I just got the most unhealthy parts yanked out of it. Hooray!
Last night was another story, however. I was really scared of this work, but I was also scared of oversleeping, and I was even more scared of mixing up my normal medications with the mysterious (but oh, so beautiful) drugs that were going to go in my IV this morning, so I decided to simply not take any medication last night. This triggered my “supper allergy attack” withdrawal symptoms and I could not, of course, sleep. It might not have helped that both cats had already taken ownership of my side of the bed by the time I tried to slither in around them. These are some big cats, and the weight of them short-sheeted me, so that try as I might I could not keep the covers up around my shoulders. And, you know, as much as I love the vibrating goodness of a purring cat, the sound and feeling takes on a whole other meaning when it’s in my ear and keeping me from covering up. When I finally did manage to almost get to sleep I dreamed that I was about to jump out of an airplane, with a parachute, ON MY OWN. Jumping out of an airplane with a parachute on my own being only slightly more terrifying that jumping out of an airplane with a parachute while I am attached to someone who knows what they’re doing. And then I dreamed that I was actually getting these teeth pulled out of my head but they hadn’t knocked me all the way out. Bad dreams, sweet reality.
I’m very glad they can’t get to the bottom wisdom teeth, and that those two don’t seem to be causing any problems. Here’s hoping I don’t end up with dry socket (far less likely with upper teeth) and that all goes according to plan.
Buh-bye monkey teeth. Buh-bye.
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