Wisdom Teeth & Motherhood
I got my wisdom teeth pulled out this morning. I've been in and out of sleep/pain all day. I think the part that's worse than the tiny jolts of pain or the constant dull ache is the eternal font of blood that springs from the gaping wounds in the back of my mouth. There are these thin rivulets of crimson traversing the jagged length of my molars and spilling on to my tongue. Let me just tell you, blood and chocolate jell-o pudding...mmmmmmmmmmmmm...tasty.
Yeah, all I can stand to eat right now (out of my many options of freezing cold smoothie, custard, yogurt, and jell-o products) is chocolate pudding. So I've had three pudding cups all day because that's all I can handle. The blood content was a little nauseating.
The drool's a bit obnoxious too. More than a bit. I've gone through a box of Kleenex because the doctor forbade me from spitting; swallowing is out of the question if I don't want to feel what it's like to have bile-flavored chocolate pudding come spewing back from whence it came and horribly sting the bejesus out of four open wounds.
Yes, the whole blog entry is disgusting. It's an unpleasant experience.
The anesthesiologist was really nice too. I asked her if she was going to stay with me through the whole thing (I knew she was...procedure - has to make sure I don't die) and she said "Oh yes, dear, I'll be here the whole time," in that comforting grandmotherly fashion. That just made me feel so much better...the doctor was all business and I didn't really take any solace in the thought of him cutting me open. But how can you not love the woman in charge of making sure you don't feel a thing?
I hated the 20-something nurse that was taking my insurance information though. She gave me attitude when I told her to just ask my mom about the insurance stuff - "Oh, I thought you were twenty-one and could take care of it yourself...but fine, I'll go ask your mom."
Jerk.
But, bless her heart, my mom's been with me the whole way. She was there when I woke up, pointed to my right jaw and mumbled "it hurts...it hurts" - I don't remember any of that. I just remember waking up in a bed and asking "how did I get here?" I don't remember getting a smoothie, but I know that I have one. And she was changing my bloody gauze every hour and feeding me happy little white pills, apologizing the whole time for waking me from my fitful slumber. She even kept checking to see if I had gotten a letter...which I finally did...from Sears. I was as disappointed as a little girl promised disneyland and given disney channel. I'll be lynching the mail man later. He's light-weight, I can do it.
Anyway, my mom and I watched Little Women together (that's my #1 sick-day movie...she used to read it to me as a little girl) and told me I was "so beautiful" even as I pressed an ice pack to my cheek and mopped up a little red strand of drool.
If you don't appreciate what your mother does for you, how much she loves you, and how unconditional her love is for you, then I feel sorry for you. And if your mom isn't like that then just wait until old age when you're in charge of taking care of her!
It thrills and scares the hell out of me to think of what it's going to be like when I'm a mother. I'm actually going to love someone enough to cheerfully tell them "It's okay, sweetie" while I scrub their vomit out of the carpet and wash it out of my hair. I will be fishing poo out of the tub. I will be cleaning soiled bed sheets night after night and then get screamed at when I'm not willing to buy the kid a toy the next day. And still, for some reason, I'll love that little parasite. I'll compare our hands and wonder if they look more like mine or Dad's.
Anyway, I’m hopped up on pain reliever and tomorrow I should be able to eat soup. So yaaaay! I love soup - so much variety! For now, it’s time for more pudding and a gauze change. I have a feeling that after this weekend, I’ll never want to eat chocolate pudding again.
Addendum: Dalia's coming over to watch movies with me! She offered to take care of me today if no one else could - I'm still wondering what I did to deserve people like this in my life. I must have been pretty swell in another life.
Yeah, all I can stand to eat right now (out of my many options of freezing cold smoothie, custard, yogurt, and jell-o products) is chocolate pudding. So I've had three pudding cups all day because that's all I can handle. The blood content was a little nauseating.
The drool's a bit obnoxious too. More than a bit. I've gone through a box of Kleenex because the doctor forbade me from spitting; swallowing is out of the question if I don't want to feel what it's like to have bile-flavored chocolate pudding come spewing back from whence it came and horribly sting the bejesus out of four open wounds.
Yes, the whole blog entry is disgusting. It's an unpleasant experience.
The anesthesiologist was really nice too. I asked her if she was going to stay with me through the whole thing (I knew she was...procedure - has to make sure I don't die) and she said "Oh yes, dear, I'll be here the whole time," in that comforting grandmotherly fashion. That just made me feel so much better...the doctor was all business and I didn't really take any solace in the thought of him cutting me open. But how can you not love the woman in charge of making sure you don't feel a thing?
I hated the 20-something nurse that was taking my insurance information though. She gave me attitude when I told her to just ask my mom about the insurance stuff - "Oh, I thought you were twenty-one and could take care of it yourself...but fine, I'll go ask your mom."
Jerk.
But, bless her heart, my mom's been with me the whole way. She was there when I woke up, pointed to my right jaw and mumbled "it hurts...it hurts" - I don't remember any of that. I just remember waking up in a bed and asking "how did I get here?" I don't remember getting a smoothie, but I know that I have one. And she was changing my bloody gauze every hour and feeding me happy little white pills, apologizing the whole time for waking me from my fitful slumber. She even kept checking to see if I had gotten a letter...which I finally did...from Sears. I was as disappointed as a little girl promised disneyland and given disney channel. I'll be lynching the mail man later. He's light-weight, I can do it.
Anyway, my mom and I watched Little Women together (that's my #1 sick-day movie...she used to read it to me as a little girl) and told me I was "so beautiful" even as I pressed an ice pack to my cheek and mopped up a little red strand of drool.
If you don't appreciate what your mother does for you, how much she loves you, and how unconditional her love is for you, then I feel sorry for you. And if your mom isn't like that then just wait until old age when you're in charge of taking care of her!
It thrills and scares the hell out of me to think of what it's going to be like when I'm a mother. I'm actually going to love someone enough to cheerfully tell them "It's okay, sweetie" while I scrub their vomit out of the carpet and wash it out of my hair. I will be fishing poo out of the tub. I will be cleaning soiled bed sheets night after night and then get screamed at when I'm not willing to buy the kid a toy the next day. And still, for some reason, I'll love that little parasite. I'll compare our hands and wonder if they look more like mine or Dad's.
Anyway, I’m hopped up on pain reliever and tomorrow I should be able to eat soup. So yaaaay! I love soup - so much variety! For now, it’s time for more pudding and a gauze change. I have a feeling that after this weekend, I’ll never want to eat chocolate pudding again.
Addendum: Dalia's coming over to watch movies with me! She offered to take care of me today if no one else could - I'm still wondering what I did to deserve people like this in my life. I must have been pretty swell in another life.