After a decade’s worth of nagging, I finally gave in and had my wisdom teeth removed.
Big mistake.
The procedure itself was fine. I kissed Aline goodbye and told her I’d miss her if I died on the surgical table. And then woke up an hour later with gauze in my mouth and a swollen mouth. Not much pain. At first. Next day I was in rough shape. Couldn’t close my mouth so it was drier than a desert grain of sand. Painkillers helped keep me asleep.
Day two not much better. Oddly enough, I didn’t feel very hungry the entire week. Though lack of hunger equates to lack of bowel movement so my weight loss plan went down the toilet. (Pun)
After five days, I thought I’d be OK so I went to work. Mistake. Kept thinking about my aching mouth and still couldn’t eat. Thankfully, the rubber stitches fell out on their own accord sometime in the second week. They drove me mad. Kept thinking there was some food stuck in my teeth that I wanted to flush out but couldn’t. Started brushing my teeth – painfully.
Went to see the dentist because of the pain after a week and he told me I had an infection. Stayed home the rest of the week and cursed dentists in general. All told, I had three follow up visits and it took three weeks before I truly felt mostly back to normal.
Ever wondered what would happen if poor Rapunzel was hard of hearing? It sure ain’t her hair that she starts tossing out the window . . .
