As husband drove me to the oral surgeon for the extraction of my wisdom teeth, I couldn’t help but feel like I was turing myself in to serve a 10-year bid in federal prison. It had me thinking, where is my support system? Why isn’t my whole family here to see me off? Who’s going to deposit money into my commissary?
Upon arrival, I had to initial a list of things the surgeon wouldn’t be respondible for. It included but was not limited to chipped teeth, broken jaw, chapped lips, kidney removal, etc…
While paying for the procedure, the dental assistant noticed the book husband brought with him. It was about tiny houses which is cool but not of importance when I’m busy thinking about worst-case scenarios such as the aforementioned kidney removal.
Once in the room and getting prepped for the surgery of my life, I asked the oral surgeon if she remembered me. 5 or 6 years earlier, she extracted a tooth. It took approximately 30 minutes before I even let her put the IV in my arm. My fear of needles is real but this time, I wanted it to be a quick process. I knew it would be a matter of minutes before I would be sleeping.
Side note: Why do people say it’s the best sleep ever? How will I know it’s the best sleep ever if I’m sleeping?
I was told the first 48 hours would be the worst. There was a lot of blood, I spent my whole weekend in a haze, and it is still difficult for me to open my mouth. It was especially hard to eat and drink with my icepack mask; thereby, resulting in me dropping mashed potatoes in my mask. Overall, it was not as bad as I expected. Likely due to getting only one side of my wisdom teeth pulled and being drugged the entire weekend.