A Farewell to Teeth (Thankfully, I still have my arms)...
So! You might recall back in January of this year, I had made a post about being in NYC exploring options for oral surgery to get my teeth removed....
As Fortune would have it, it turned out to be more cost-effective to have the surgery AND denture-work done here in Austin (Goddess bless my brother Ari, who ended up footing a major portion of the bill, not to mention serving as my host and informal tour-guide for the three weeks or so that I was in New York while checking out the dental college). And so it finally came to pass that on Feb. 10, 2010, I bid a very eager farewell to a mouthful of decayed and rotting dentine that had been making my life progressively more uncomfortable since, oh, 2007 or so. It also marked the first time undergoing major surgery of any kind, let alone oral, so I honestly had no idea what to expect, and I'll admit to being hella nervous about being put under right up to the moment the IV drip began (long story short: I remember looking up at the OR lights, feeling the IV go in, and then suddenly the surgeon's assistant is wiping off the blood on my face and stuffing gauze strips into my mouth.
If I hadn't been immediately feeling like a hooker who'd just given deep-throat to King Kong, I would have been absolutely fascinated by the total loss of temporal awareness during the procedure. I'd honestly anticipated at least dreaming or something, but whatever they gave me, it must have knocked my brain down to at least a Delta state. Two hours passed by in an eyeblink. Scared me shitless when I realised I could have died and totally not known it was happening, in any way shape or form.
Annnnyway. Like I said, I wasn't certain at all what to expect from the recovery process, so imagine my surprise when I first looked in a mirror post-surgery and beheld:
At first I was highly amused, until I realised that this was how my cheeks were going to be for the next 7 days AT LEAST (I have new respect for squirrels and chipmunks now). And not a damn thing I could do about it whatsoever. In case you're wondering, what you're seeing there is nothing but swelling. Not air, not material stuffed in my mouth...just swelling. Try to ignore the bloody lips, not much I could do about that, either. I'd been warned to expect "some possible bleeding" for a few days after the surgery. What I HADN'T really been prepared for was having a tiny woman in my mouth during her period, who'd forgotten her tampons before climbing in (Suffice to say, I have new respect for the ladies, too).
The actual pain faded once the bleeding finally subsided, but whoo boy. The party was just beginning. My mouth spent three weeks lost in Discomfort City, and several times I contemplated petitioning the Catholic Church to beatify whoever originally invented Hydrocodone. And I will never again take for granted the existence of the humble ice-maker.
Ten weeks passed. I became even more self-conscious about my LACK of teeth than I was when they were actually still present. I gradually attained new heights of skill in liquid food-preparation, discovering that given enough water, ANYthing edible can be successfully put through a blender (including entire fresh-baked pies, pans of lasagna, and steak). "Looks like baby shit, tastes like ambrosia" became the phrase with which I approached all mealtimes. I also gained new heights of compassion for people who are forced to speak with a lisp. My Charisma score plummeted to a 7, I think.
And then I was finally ready to begin the mystical ordeal known to mankind as "The Fitting of The Dentures." I am sworn to silence regarding the details (no, really! Um...well, kind of...oh, okay, okay. Actually I'm just trying to wrap this up). But suffice to say should you ever find yourself faced with this trial for yourself...well, honestly, it was actually the easiest part of the entire process to deal with. Involved a lot of sitting around while having things shoved in and out of my mouth, and saying things like "church" and "school" every now and then. I've seen stranger things done to people at bondage parties. Ho hum.
On July 13th, 2010, my three-year Quest for Less-Painful Choppers finally, at long last, came to an end:
I feel like Buzz Lightyear every time I smile, but I'm slowly getting over that.
As for what it's actually like to LIVE with dentures...well, that's a whole 'nother story.
As Fortune would have it, it turned out to be more cost-effective to have the surgery AND denture-work done here in Austin (Goddess bless my brother Ari, who ended up footing a major portion of the bill, not to mention serving as my host and informal tour-guide for the three weeks or so that I was in New York while checking out the dental college). And so it finally came to pass that on Feb. 10, 2010, I bid a very eager farewell to a mouthful of decayed and rotting dentine that had been making my life progressively more uncomfortable since, oh, 2007 or so. It also marked the first time undergoing major surgery of any kind, let alone oral, so I honestly had no idea what to expect, and I'll admit to being hella nervous about being put under right up to the moment the IV drip began (long story short: I remember looking up at the OR lights, feeling the IV go in, and then suddenly the surgeon's assistant is wiping off the blood on my face and stuffing gauze strips into my mouth.
If I hadn't been immediately feeling like a hooker who'd just given deep-throat to King Kong, I would have been absolutely fascinated by the total loss of temporal awareness during the procedure. I'd honestly anticipated at least dreaming or something, but whatever they gave me, it must have knocked my brain down to at least a Delta state. Two hours passed by in an eyeblink. Scared me shitless when I realised I could have died and totally not known it was happening, in any way shape or form.
Annnnyway. Like I said, I wasn't certain at all what to expect from the recovery process, so imagine my surprise when I first looked in a mirror post-surgery and beheld:
At first I was highly amused, until I realised that this was how my cheeks were going to be for the next 7 days AT LEAST (I have new respect for squirrels and chipmunks now). And not a damn thing I could do about it whatsoever. In case you're wondering, what you're seeing there is nothing but swelling. Not air, not material stuffed in my mouth...just swelling. Try to ignore the bloody lips, not much I could do about that, either. I'd been warned to expect "some possible bleeding" for a few days after the surgery. What I HADN'T really been prepared for was having a tiny woman in my mouth during her period, who'd forgotten her tampons before climbing in (Suffice to say, I have new respect for the ladies, too).
The actual pain faded once the bleeding finally subsided, but whoo boy. The party was just beginning. My mouth spent three weeks lost in Discomfort City, and several times I contemplated petitioning the Catholic Church to beatify whoever originally invented Hydrocodone. And I will never again take for granted the existence of the humble ice-maker.
Ten weeks passed. I became even more self-conscious about my LACK of teeth than I was when they were actually still present. I gradually attained new heights of skill in liquid food-preparation, discovering that given enough water, ANYthing edible can be successfully put through a blender (including entire fresh-baked pies, pans of lasagna, and steak). "Looks like baby shit, tastes like ambrosia" became the phrase with which I approached all mealtimes. I also gained new heights of compassion for people who are forced to speak with a lisp. My Charisma score plummeted to a 7, I think.
And then I was finally ready to begin the mystical ordeal known to mankind as "The Fitting of The Dentures." I am sworn to silence regarding the details (no, really! Um...well, kind of...oh, okay, okay. Actually I'm just trying to wrap this up). But suffice to say should you ever find yourself faced with this trial for yourself...well, honestly, it was actually the easiest part of the entire process to deal with. Involved a lot of sitting around while having things shoved in and out of my mouth, and saying things like "church" and "school" every now and then. I've seen stranger things done to people at bondage parties. Ho hum.
On July 13th, 2010, my three-year Quest for Less-Painful Choppers finally, at long last, came to an end:
I feel like Buzz Lightyear every time I smile, but I'm slowly getting over that.
As for what it's actually like to LIVE with dentures...well, that's a whole 'nother story.