Posted on February 14, 2005 2 Comments

My wisdom teeth are gone. Four tiny pieces of me, locked deep within my jaw, lost forever. As expected, they did not come out without a fight. But nearly $300 and 48 hours following the extraction, I can reflect on my first surgery ever and marvel at what a strange trip it was.

Friday I awoke filled with nervous anticipation about the procedure. I arrived at the oral surgeon’s office promptly at 9:00 a.m., ready for what lied ahead (though in actuality I had no idea what to expect; everyone just kept telling me it wouldn’t be that bad). After the receptionist cleared me to begin, I sat fidgeting in the doctor’s chair waiting for my surgeon, random thoughts bouncing around my head…1) What would happen if I had a nightmare while under anesthesia? Could I wake myself up? 2) What if the surgeon was one of those creepy “love” doctors featured on 20/20 that molests patients once they’re blacked out? 3) What if I woke up during the procedure?

The doctor came in and explained everything to me. He asked me where I like to go on vacation and the nurse anesthetist began humming as I described the strawberry fields along California’s central coast. The last thing I remember is the surgeon singing The Beatles’ “Strawberry Fields,” chuckling under his mask.

I woke up briefly, holding on to the nurse for dear life, walking sideways, as she transferred me to the recovery room. Fade to black.

Again I awoke, this time to the nurse pleading with me to open my eyes. I tried calling for Brian, but to my suprise, no words came out of my mouth. He showed up as I tried to make the international sign for “WATER!!!,” the gauze spilling out of my mouth. Oddly enough, the office decided now was a great time to collect payment and set another appointment, which Brian informed me of later. They could have stolen my purse and taken everything; I would never have known. (Next time I have surgery, I’m paying upfront – make a note, all!)

I came home and discovered that Vicadin makes me vomit, which would have been nice to know beforehand. I also found out that the antibiotic makes nautius, again, something I would have liked to know. I’ve been sitting around my apartment crying, vomiting and trying to eat all weekend. Also, I look like Popeye – you guessed it, swollen “chipmunk cheeks.” I hope eventually my face goes back to normal size.

As I ice my face (remember, no more painkillers) and watch the grammys, I begin mentally listing all the other things I could have bought with $300: 200 hazelnut coffees, 100 ice cream sundaes, 6 new pairs of shoes, a trip to Las Vegas…

Instead though, I learned a little bit about my personal limits and the dependability of my loved ones. In the end, I’d rather have their company and my Popeye cheeks than new shoes and ice cream sundaes.

Enjoy your week!

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