Here at last is the final installment of my wisdom teeth adventures. After procrastinating for two years, they’re out.
What I expected to be the worst: the procedure, feeling the whole thing, being scared.
What was actually the worst: OUCH, the last four days.
Now, when I’m on ibuprofen like a good girl, the pain is really not there, and the world is filled with rabbits and daisies. I made the mistake of only taking 200mg when my prescription clearly said 600mg until yesterday (actually 400mg works fine, so I’m on that), so I was not a very fun wife. Molly picked me up and hung out with me yesterday and described me as “a puddle.” Yeah, yeah. Take your ibuprofen, people.
The worst is over, and as long as I can concentrate enough to write 6,000 words a day starting Monday for a new novel regime, then all of the challenges included with this process are past.
Going under was trippy. I paid very close attention for future novel-use. They put the laughing gas over my nose, and I inhaled. It had no smell, and I felt like it wasn’t doing anything for several minutes. Then all of a sudden my hands and feet were tingling and then a few seconds later my eyes were closed and I thought I was dreaming—I reconnected with the dreams I’d been having before I woke up and I was positive I was back in bed. I heard the dentist talking and I thought I was dreaming about having the procedure.
I woke myself up just enough to think, “Wait a minute. This is real. This is actually happening right now.” Out of it, I panicked for a split second about the laughing gas covering my nose until I woke up enough to steady my brain. You’re doing this on purpose. Relax.
The nurse and doctor were chatting to me (not with me, I was half asleep) and I felt the IV go into my arm. With all that gaseous laughter, it barely hurt. The last thing I remember was the doctor saying, “Okay, let’s see how much it takes for you to fall asleep!”
And then, a few seconds later as far as I was concerned because I had no dreams, I woke up and Molly came in with a big grin and helped me walk out to the car. No, I was not babbling about ninjas, yes I was lucid, but apparently I was gazing around at everything like a lost, pitiable sheep.
And that’s the end. This is me, currently affectionately being called chipmunk cheeks, signing off.