Wisdom Tooth Pull of Ought-Eight
Hey remember THIS? If you’ve been playing the home game, my wisdom teeth have been the bane of my existence for the past couple years. The saga ended on September 19th, 2008.
Wisdom Tooth Throwdown:
In this corner, weighing in at a feather-light **coughcough** pounds - me, Jenn K.
In the other corner, weighing in at a ball-busting 2 grams - Wisdom Teeth I, II, III, and IV.
Sure, I was nervous as the big day neared. People tried not to elaborate on what were surely wisdom tooth horror stories, but I knew -- I knew your face swelled up like blowfish. But my friend Brooke, who referred me to this dentist, had hers removed, and came back the next Monday without much pain, or puff. I remained positive.
I decided to go the “conscious sedation” route, in which I would not be completely put out with an IV. Rather, it was one-two punch of sedatives and nitrous, resulting in a state where I’d be happily numbed and napping. I was told that I could respond to questions asked of me, but would most likely not remember what I had said. Because I’ve spent many nights in college doing just that, I figured I would be okay with some tooth-pulling in between. The night before, I gleefully popped my benzo and hopped into bed. I say “gleefully” because I knew that I would have no trouble sleeping. No cricket, no snoring, no flashing modem lights, no cat getting stuck in the dresser drawers - nothing was going to wake me. However, I do have a skewed view of what hardcore medications do to people. Clearly I watch too much Intervention. I imagined myself as one drugged-up hot mess, but I guess when you use drugs as prescribed, you’ll be A-OK. [LIFE LESSON!]
My mom picked me up early Friday morning for my 7:30am appointment. Yes, my mom, who is by far the best mom in the world, drove down from Michigan to hang out with me. Since Damon works on weekends, and I clearly needed to be babied, no matter how well the surgery went, this was a fabulous thing. They took me back to the exam room and I pulled out my MP3 player. I had made a mix of songs that I thought would sound good on nitrous oxide (Beach Boys’ Good Vibrations, pretty much any Radiohead.) But the good dentist advised against it, saying that it would be a “stimulant” and counteract the sedatives I had taken that morning. “You’re the doctor,” I wanted to say, but I couldn’t figure out a way to make it not sound sarcastic.
Apparently, people aren’t normally as “awake” as I was during the procedure. I know this because my dentist said, “I’ve never had anyone as awake as that, performing a procedure under sedation.” I think people typically just zonk out, but I can only guess that my curiousity was stronger than the meds. I’ve always been like that -- always have to know what’s going on, always afraid I’m going to miss something. I’m sure I zoned out here and there (how else could two hours feel like twenty minutes), but I do remember quite a bit of it.
TOP FIVE THINGS I REMEMBER FROM THE WISDOM TOOTH PULL of OUGHT-EIGHT
1) Getting 238432 novocaine shots. “I feel like the elephant man, inside my mouth!” I managed to get out. (I didn’t notice how dirty this sounded until I typed it out.)
2) The dentist slipped on Wisdom Tooth I, and I think it just fell out of my gum. The dental team kind of chuckled, and he said “Well, THAT was easy.” And I said through numbed lips, “Are you kidding me?” As if to say, “Fuck, I could do this.”
3) The crowbarring technique to get the teeth out of my mouth. Three out of the four had already fully erupted to the surface, and I could feel the pulling deep in my jaw. In my haziness, I imagined they were six inches long. They never did show them to me, and I was too high to remember to ask to see them.
4) “How are you doing on the nitrous?” the hygenist asked. “Fine,” I replied. “But you can turn it up, if you are so inclined.” IF YOU ARE SO INCLINED.
5) Wisdom Tooth IV did not go gently into that good night. It was still under the gum and required some more tools. At one point the tooth was so resistant and he was pushing so hard against my face, I started laughing. He asked if I was okay and said yes and giggled. I didn’t have the energy or the articulation to tell him that in my head, I was imagining we were in a fight.
I got stitched up, and then it was over. We picked up my presciption (HY-dro-CO-done, *clap, clap, clap-clap-clap*) and I was home in time for Hot Topics on The View before passing out. So that was that. I slept a lot, but from what I heard my recovery was above par. I was eating homemade stew by night and watching the Food Network with my mom by day. All the while on painkillers. So, all in all, I had a nice little weekend and came to work with minimal, barely noticable puff.
Aaaaand a big plug for my awesome dentist, Dr. Princell, without whom this blog entry would not be possible.
Le Fin.
Wisdom Tooth Throwdown:
In this corner, weighing in at a feather-light **coughcough** pounds - me, Jenn K.
In the other corner, weighing in at a ball-busting 2 grams - Wisdom Teeth I, II, III, and IV.
Sure, I was nervous as the big day neared. People tried not to elaborate on what were surely wisdom tooth horror stories, but I knew -- I knew your face swelled up like blowfish. But my friend Brooke, who referred me to this dentist, had hers removed, and came back the next Monday without much pain, or puff. I remained positive.
I decided to go the “conscious sedation” route, in which I would not be completely put out with an IV. Rather, it was one-two punch of sedatives and nitrous, resulting in a state where I’d be happily numbed and napping. I was told that I could respond to questions asked of me, but would most likely not remember what I had said. Because I’ve spent many nights in college doing just that, I figured I would be okay with some tooth-pulling in between. The night before, I gleefully popped my benzo and hopped into bed. I say “gleefully” because I knew that I would have no trouble sleeping. No cricket, no snoring, no flashing modem lights, no cat getting stuck in the dresser drawers - nothing was going to wake me. However, I do have a skewed view of what hardcore medications do to people. Clearly I watch too much Intervention. I imagined myself as one drugged-up hot mess, but I guess when you use drugs as prescribed, you’ll be A-OK. [LIFE LESSON!]
My mom picked me up early Friday morning for my 7:30am appointment. Yes, my mom, who is by far the best mom in the world, drove down from Michigan to hang out with me. Since Damon works on weekends, and I clearly needed to be babied, no matter how well the surgery went, this was a fabulous thing. They took me back to the exam room and I pulled out my MP3 player. I had made a mix of songs that I thought would sound good on nitrous oxide (Beach Boys’ Good Vibrations, pretty much any Radiohead.) But the good dentist advised against it, saying that it would be a “stimulant” and counteract the sedatives I had taken that morning. “You’re the doctor,” I wanted to say, but I couldn’t figure out a way to make it not sound sarcastic.
Apparently, people aren’t normally as “awake” as I was during the procedure. I know this because my dentist said, “I’ve never had anyone as awake as that, performing a procedure under sedation.” I think people typically just zonk out, but I can only guess that my curiousity was stronger than the meds. I’ve always been like that -- always have to know what’s going on, always afraid I’m going to miss something. I’m sure I zoned out here and there (how else could two hours feel like twenty minutes), but I do remember quite a bit of it.
TOP FIVE THINGS I REMEMBER FROM THE WISDOM TOOTH PULL of OUGHT-EIGHT
1) Getting 238432 novocaine shots. “I feel like the elephant man, inside my mouth!” I managed to get out. (I didn’t notice how dirty this sounded until I typed it out.)
2) The dentist slipped on Wisdom Tooth I, and I think it just fell out of my gum. The dental team kind of chuckled, and he said “Well, THAT was easy.” And I said through numbed lips, “Are you kidding me?” As if to say, “Fuck, I could do this.”
3) The crowbarring technique to get the teeth out of my mouth. Three out of the four had already fully erupted to the surface, and I could feel the pulling deep in my jaw. In my haziness, I imagined they were six inches long. They never did show them to me, and I was too high to remember to ask to see them.
4) “How are you doing on the nitrous?” the hygenist asked. “Fine,” I replied. “But you can turn it up, if you are so inclined.” IF YOU ARE SO INCLINED.
5) Wisdom Tooth IV did not go gently into that good night. It was still under the gum and required some more tools. At one point the tooth was so resistant and he was pushing so hard against my face, I started laughing. He asked if I was okay and said yes and giggled. I didn’t have the energy or the articulation to tell him that in my head, I was imagining we were in a fight.
I got stitched up, and then it was over. We picked up my presciption (HY-dro-CO-done, *clap, clap, clap-clap-clap*) and I was home in time for Hot Topics on The View before passing out. So that was that. I slept a lot, but from what I heard my recovery was above par. I was eating homemade stew by night and watching the Food Network with my mom by day. All the while on painkillers. So, all in all, I had a nice little weekend and came to work with minimal, barely noticable puff.
Aaaaand a big plug for my awesome dentist, Dr. Princell, without whom this blog entry would not be possible.
Le Fin.