So by now, I am sure most of you have already heard about my "Tooth Extraction 09" saga. If not, I'll be glad to recap.
It started out last Wednesday when I woke up with that horrible "Apthous Ulcer" - seriously, go back and read that entry to get an idea of the pain and then Google it. I really thought I had an abcessed tooth OR WORSE! Turns out it was nothing really, but while Dr Dental was all up in my mouf, he noticed some pus around my lower left wisdom tooth or #17 as he called it. I know, it's gross. You're welcome. Oddly enough, I'd not had one iota of pain, problem, swelling, nada in that tooth. There was absolutely nothing that indicated I was having any trouble and had it not been for the Ulcer of 09, I would have never known of the infection in #17. Dr Dental advised that infections could be recurrent and he opined that the tooth should come out asap. I actually have 3 wisdom teeth. They are all in, as in protruding from my gums, like regular teeth, not that have to be dug out like an archaeologist on a dig. If that makes sense. Anyway, we both agreed that they all should come out. Back story- I had scheduled an appointment to have the teeth removed several years ago. My appt date was actually a day or 2 after Hurrican Katrina, so we had to cancel due to the whole power outage issue. I DID reschedule for later that year, but found out I was pregnant with Brogan. As luck would have it, when I finally around to schedule it again, I was pregnant with Swaid and had to cancel yet again. So folks, what I'm saying is that I really did TRY to have them extracted much much earlier. Whatever. SO, back to last Wednesday: he referred me to an oral surgeon to have all 3 removed. This oral surgeon is the ONLY one in our crummy PPO network. Did you hear that workplace? Yea, I said it- CRUMMY! (I mean, but you guys totally rock and really I couldn't ask for a better goup of co-workers! Seriously! Love you- mean it! Muah!) Well, it just so happens that that oral surgeon had just removed the wisdom teeth of a prior co-worker approximately 4 months ago and that lady STILL has a bone infection. That's right- I said "has" as in present tense. I know, it was probably random, but still it made me nervous. After a pep talk with myself, I sucked it up because, well, not only am I insanely cool, but I also like to stare danger in the face, yo! That's just how I roll. So, I made the appt and feeling pretty confident, came back to my office and boldly announced to my co-workers that I was dancing with the devil and having my teeth pulled by THAT GUY. Quickly one of our girls responded with, "Yea. My cousin died the day he pulled her teeth." INTERNET- I AM NOT KIDDING YOU. Apparently, there was an issue with overdoing some anesthesia and now she was dead and there is a lawsuit pending, but not just THAT lawsuit pending, but MULTIPLE LAWSUITS PENDING. FROM MULTIPLE CLAIMS. I know, right?! So. I'm not gonna lie to you. I chickened out, called Dr Dental and exclaimed, "I'M TOO YOUNG TO DIE, DOC! TOOOO YOOUUNGGG TOOO DIEEEEE". So what we decided is that he would pull the one wisdom tooth (#17) and we'd just see how long I could go before the other 2 gave me any problems. I'm cool with that. Fast forward to this past Monday. My appt was at 4:00 pm. I show up, feeling fairly certain that this will be a cake walk. 1- because I really do like going to the dentist and 2- because I have birthed 2 children via vajayjay so this? Was nothing. I am escorted into the room. It's small, almost like prison- cell small, but surprisingly airy. There is a big window on the back wall. The dental chair is positioned just so you're able to view the tree outside of it. I sit. The dental assistant comes in and clasps a bib to my shirt. The chair is comfortable, I have a great view, and she has started the gas. I can totally do this. Dr Dental comes in, explains to me what "extraction of #17" entails, and announces, "I have reviewed your scans. It looks simple enough. Your roots are severely curved, but I don't foresee this turning to pot. Let's get started." Yes, really. Those were his comforting words to me. I cannot be more serious. I think to myself as I'm watching out the window, "It's ok- there is now a bird hopping from branch to branch. I'll just watch that little guy!" The gas mask is placed on me and instantly my chair reclines. No longer am I viewing God's creation from the window, but rather directly up the nose of Dr Dental as he hovers over me. The gas is working now and he swabs my mouth with the "pink numbing gel". I haven't a better name for it, so that's what we'll call it. It tastes awful. I tell him that. He tells me I'll feel a little prick and he injects my mouth with novacaine. It really isn't bad until he hits the nerve dead on. It hurt like a mug. I still don't know who jumped higher although I am positive the assistant's bottom totally left her chair. I think the worst part is over. I don't know it yet, but I am so, so wrong about that. He is working away and I can't feel a thing. I can only smell the tooth as he drills into it. I can hear him asking the nurse for "surgical suction" and then "forceps". He ceases the drilling just long enough for me to calm down. I began to feel pressure as he removed 1/2 of the tooth. Once he picked the drill back up, I am nervous. I stare into the bright light now above my face and can't help but wonder what else "Pelton & Crane" have invented? or are they just the manufacturers? Do they just do dental supplies? Or do they work with all med specialties? He begins drilling again and I began reciting every verse I could think of. I had made it to "For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper...." when it happened. The drill slipped and went into my tongue. In an instant, all the bible verses in my head were replaced with every ill thought and bad word I could imagine. I'm not proud of it, but it is the truth. I'm certain I even made up words. My only redemption is that they stayed there in my head and were never once uttered aloud. He stopped to suction the blood and it never stopped pouring. The drill had gone in quite a bit and required 4 or 5 sutures. It is stitched in an awkward spot under my tongue. If you lift your tongue, you'll see that connecty piece. Move over to the left. That spot way in the back where your tongue meets the fleshy part of your lower jaw? That is where I'm stitched. The worst part is that my tongue wasn't numb so I felt the drill, but I also felt every stitch. You guys, there has been no greater pain in the world than stitches in the underside of your tongue, and I have birthed 2 children. Do you hear what I am saying to you? I have had stitches where no woman ever wants to have stitches and the stitches in my tongue were a million times more painful than that. That is what I'm saying. When I was finally able to speak, all I could say was, "I mean, I don't think I hate you, but I am certain you won't be getting a Christmas card this year. And that stinks for you because my kids are really, really cute." He responded in kind with an apology and a script for Percocet. I think we're slowly on our way to becoming friends again.
66. I watch the Disney channel even when my kids don't.
67. I have had an eating disorder.
68. Ironically enough, it was only after having children that I began to love and to appreciate my body. It's not perfect, but it brought forth my children and if gaining 15 lbs is the price, I'll be glad to pay it.
69. I want my daughter to grow up knowing that she does not need a boy to make her complete.
70. I want my son to grow up knowing that women are to be cherished. And no one will ever love him like his mother does. smile.
71. My favorite date nights are those involving dinner and a movie.....at home.
72. I wish I could write a book.
73. I am freaked out by clowns and porcelain dolls. I am not kidding.
74. When I was in 5th grade, I found a girl's body in a pool. Her swimsuit had gotten caught on the light at the bottom of it. She lived and suffered no permanent injuries, but I have been afraid of the water ever since.
75. I love to sing.