On Friday, I did something that I’ve been putting off for over a decade. I got my wisdom teeth out. All four. Impacted. One growing sideways (which required some fake bone). At the age of 31. I hate the dentist to begin with…the regular cleaning makes me curl into a ball, so this is a special sort of hell. (Honestly, the only reason I’m writing this is because after four days of doing very little but hold ice packs, gently rinsing and spacing out on painkillers, I’m damn bored.)
My husband has been great–although the jerk doesn’t have any wisdom teeth so he doesn’t know what this is all about. But he even offered to watch football on the small TV so he could keep me company. The pain has been very strange…my tongue and gums are so swollen that I feel like my mouth has taken over my entire body. My jaw is sore and i can barely open my mouth enough to gently brush my teeth as instructed.
Let me tell you, I’d kill a man and a small kitty for a grilled cheese right now. I’ve had my fill of mashed potatoes, lukewarm soup, smoothies and polenta. My co-worker gave me the good idea of Slim-Fast shakes, but even those lost their luster very soon. At first I thought this would be a great diet, a nice opportunity to get creative with cooking. Aside from pureeing a healthy version of creamed spinach, there wasn’t a whole lot of creativity to be had.
Yesterday I woke up and the pain was worse. Excuse me? Three days in and it gets worse? Budgeting my Vicodin to get me through today was…painful, pun intended. I called at 8:30 a.m. to see what could me done, but no dentist was available to consult with until an appointment tomorrow at 9am. I just got a call today at 5:46 p.m. and hallelujiah, more pain killers! That’s a start…
However, I’m afraid I’m going to permanently look like an Asian chipmunk who lisps because my inner cheek is keeping me from enunciating my words.
