"Halt, halt with your two wisdom tooth tale! I had four pulled. No, five. No, nine! I had nine wisdom teeth pulled. All of mine were impacted, they were growing in upside down, the roots were wrapped around my tongue and coming out of my nose. They were tusks - I was a warthog! No anaesthesia, they pulled them out with pliers, and I was eating corn on the cob that afternoon."
Oh Brian Regan.
My tale...is slightly different. I was not a warthog for one. And only three were impacted. And no, I was not eating corn on the cob by that afternoon. Iced coffee and soggy bread though? Yep!
I had my consult with Dr.Stoykewych about a week and a half previous to this, where I had x-rays that revealed three fairly badly impacted wisdom teeth that had all sprung up over the past few months (the fourth had actually come up fairly nicely about a year ago), and causing me to be constantly biting the insides of my cheeks and other small annoyances. My dentist had figured that I might as well get them out now while we still have dental coverage, and I thought it sounded like a good option, even though our schedule is pretty tight as it is, with getting ready for our move and all. Anyways - back to the consult. The oral surgeon was going over my sedation options with me - I could have just plain ol' local freezing, conscious sedation (where you're technically awake through the whole thing, able to participate, but not actually remember anything afterwards), or straight up general anaesthetic. I have said in the past that if I ever had to get my teeth out, I would choose to just be knocked right out. But when we were going through the options, I had a sudden change of heart and realized I had no desire to be anaesthetized. I usually have no problems with freezing - even the needle they put in to inject the freezing I never feel. So afterwards when I asked how long the procedure would take and the surgeon's reply was, "Oh, about 40 minutes," I told him, "Ok, then I just want the local freezing." To which he laughed, shook his head and said, "No you don't!" He then went on to explain that the way the teeth were growing would mean alot of trauma to my gums and jaw to get them out, and when the freezing wore off, I would be in for ALOT of pain. So I thought about this for a minute, and decided that the next best thing would be the conscious sedation, which he agreed with. We shook hands on it (not literally), I signed a paper or two, and the date was set for Friday, June 15th.
The day came and I picked up my fantastic father-in-law (who took the day off work just to bring me in to my appointment AND take care of Hudson while I was in the chair!!) and set off for the big city. Once there, things went along fairly unremarkably. I signed a consent, paid my sizable bill (about half was covered, thankfully!), and was shown to my room by one of the dental assistants. She showed me to my...stretcher/gurney/skinniest bed ever...and proceeded to tell me that I should take off my sandals, so they wouldn't flop off my feet. Those were the words she used. I panicked for a second, thinking, 'How floppy am I going to be that my shoes are just going to fall off? I thought I signed up for conscious sedation!' But I obeyed, knowing that there was no turning back now. And then she said, "But don't worry about your shoes. Someone will put them back on your feet when it's all done." More panic raced through my brain. 'Really?' I thought. 'I won't have the wherewithall to put on my own shoes?'
Next thing I know she's tucking me into my gurney with the fuzziest gray blankie you've ever seen, wishes me good luck, and then in walks the anaesthetist. We shook hands (great handshake - my confidence started to creep up again at that point), he started my IV (and picked my favorite vein - another confidence boost), and we had a little chat about the Winnipeg health region, the changes with some of the surgery programs in the hospitals, etc. I was feeling alot better by the point, and by the time the surgeon came in to ask, "Do you two know eachother?" and tell me that we were about to get started, I was ready to go!
However, my panic started to creep up again when the anaesthetist showed my the giant syringe attached to my IV filled with a murky green liquid and told me I would start to feel sleepy very quickly.
"Oh no!" I shrieked, embarassingly - but it had caught me off guard, so there was no time to activate the filter between my brain and my mouth.
And that's when it hit me like a brick and the ceiling started to go dim. The last thing I can remember saying is, "How much oxygen are you giving me? 3L? Good."
The next memory I have is feeling someone put on my shoes (ha!), and blinking my way into foggy consciousness. For some reason I thought they had wheeled me right into the main entrance, and I was sitting in the waiting room with a bunch of people waiting to go in for their consults (how horrifying would that be!). Not so. The next half hour or so I can only remember in snapshots. I remember dad coming in with Hudson and telling me they went to McDonald's and Hudson ate an egg and hashbrowns. I recall the nurse telling me my blood pressure was 128/88 and asking if it was normally that high - to which I replied, "Well, sometimes I get white coat syndrome," and got the giggles from what I perceived was a hilarious reply, and the nurse laughing politely along with me (maybe nervously?). I can remember the nurse telling dad that someone needed to stay with me for the next few hours, and me interuppting to ask her for the third time to repeat the instructions on what I needed to do with the gauze in my mouth. Then the nurse and dad helped me sway out the back door and into the car, where I leaned in closely to the nurse to ask about follow up with the doctor, and then even closer to say, "Thank you SO much!"
The ride home produced an even less lucid Stefanie. I can't remember all the details, but I recall asking dad if we could stop somewhere to get me an iced coffee. On our way to McDonald's I remember telling dad specifically how we would get home from McDonald's, making sure I repeated a few times, "We need to go west on the Perimeter. West." Then when we stopped at my pharmacy to get perscriptions, I can recall charging in like nothing was wrong (that's honestly how I felt), and was greeted by the pharmacist saying, "And how are we doing today? (Horrified expression crosses face as I step closer to the counter). Oh, not too good I see!"
At home I pretty much went straight to bed, with dad holding vigil downstairs should I choke on my guaze or...whatever. A couple hours later (I think?) I got up to get myself some more T3's, and was greeted downstairs by Ty's younger sister, Raquel, who had come to relieve dad of his post.
Once more, the conversation we had is a tad fuzzy, and I have no idea how long I was up and about for, but when the T3's started to kick in, I knew I had to get back to bed before I slumped over on the couch in a drooling heap. At this time Hudson was stirring from his nap, but he had not been down for long, so I remember stumbling into his room, scooping him up and taking him back to bed with me to nap together.
We woke up together about an hour later, and by this time, some of the anaesthesia had worn off (and I was much less numb as well, so probably the local had worn off at this point). But, heavens be praised, I really was not in alot of pain. Swelling at this point? Not bad at all. And no bruising! We went back downstairs and this time I actually fully remember talking to Raquel, although I was still definitely a little "off," and must have jabbered on for a little too long, consequently getting myself a pretty bad jaw ache.
Soon Ty was home from his overnighter with his class at camp (oh right - I forgot to mention that he had been away the morning of my surgery, and that's why dad was the lucky one who had to take me in), and right away I put him to work sugaring my iced coffee (no food since supper the evening before was making me want a good ol' sugar boost), and tracking down more gauze. I honestly can't remember how the rest of the evening went. Maybe we took Hudson to play in the Waldner's backyard with the kitties and sandbox? Perhaps I sucked on some bread and watched Master Chef? I'm sure there was a soup involved somewhere, but I can't remember in what capacity.
What I do remember though, is after finally getting back to bed at night, I DID NOT SLEEP A WINK. Seriously. I watched every five minute increment go by on the clock. I had taken my pain medication before bed, and applied ice packs dutifully, so it wasn't pain that was keeping me up. I just could not shut off my mind. Finally at 2 a.m. I decided I would rather be productive if I was just going to lay awake anyway, so I set about googling and pinterest-ing how to make fabric flowers for hair clips (I want to give away a couple Curious George-themed flower clips at Hudson's birthday party in a couple of weeks). And by 4 a.m. I had two of them made! I have the burn blisters to prove it (no one should operate a non-heat-controlled glue gun at 3:00a.m. under narcotic influence - it was a bad scene, and I still have the burn blisters to prove it). After this little escapade, I decided to give sleep a try again, but alas, light soon started breaking over the horizon, and it was a no-go once more. And by 6:00a.m., Hudson was up and ready to go too, so we hung out together downstairs, me outfitted in my ice packs and him in his fire truck jammies.
The rest of the day was fairly unremarkable. Meds every four hours, salt water rinses every two hours, and lots of napping. I was surprised at how much I could do though, especially on so little sleep.
Sunday brought Father's Day, and the usual...sadness...but it was not nearly so sharp this year. Somewhere between the knowledge that Ty is such a good dad, Ty's dad being the man he is, the healing I received through counselling, and just some good old time, I felt no dread for the upcoming day. Instead it was a good, albeit foggy, day that we could spend with Ty's family, and with our little family at home. Once again it meant salty rinses and T3's (just once in the morning though), and once again I attempted to sleep. With little to no results.
Then came Monday morning. Apparently overnight a Peterbilt had come crashing through our house and rolled over my head a few dozen times. At least that's what it felt like. I was no longer taking T3's, but I suppose the ones I had taken previously along with a giant lack of sleep, food and water all culminated into one big ball of exhuastion. I was having headaches I couldn't shake no matter how many Advil I sucked back. I stupidly convinced myself to walk to the store to pick up the mail and Hudson nearly had to push me home in the stroller. I was so tired that I was literally falling asleep sitting upright at the kitchen table. I couldn't think of even simple words to describe things. It was like having a newborn all over again!
Tuesday and Wednesday were much the same. Except on Wednesday Ty's parents graciously came and took Hudson for a few hours so I wouldn't have to worry about taking care of an extremely busy toddler in the midst of all of this. Ty was also so so good to me during this time - stopping by on his lunch break to see how we were doing, running out to get me soup from the nearby cafe and making sure my ice packs were always in the freezer when they weren't on my face. I recall thinking on Wednesday that at five days post-procedure, I should be feeling perfect again! I found it very odd that a person of my age, in good health, should still be getting over oral surgery. But the orthodontist warned me that it would probably take at least 10 days to really feel better, so I guess he wasn't lying after all! What really bothered me was that I wasn't able to get nearly the amount of work done that I had planned for that week. I did, however, manage to make the last three of four bridesmaid gift bags for a friend from work - and one while I was still on regular narcotics! I woke up the next day thinking I would surely have to rip out all of the stitches and start from scratch - but seriously, even the top stitching was perfect! Here are those bags (I had no time to get a good pic, but I just wanted to show them off! The bride asked me to find more or less specific fabrics for each bridesmaid, and they were such a pleasure to make!).
Then came Thursday morning. I woke up and the sun was bright and shiny, the sky was blue...and my head was clear! Thank you Jesus; the corner had officially been turned! I wasn't feeling perfect that day, but really remarkably better - and only better since!
Last Friday was when my four wisdom tooth tale ended. And it ended on a fantastic note. I woke up around 9:00am (quite a bit later than usual) and gasped to myself, because Ty had taken him out of his crib earlier - so I figured he had been playing downstairs by himself for over an hour, after Ty had left for work. This kid can do some serious damage in 10 seconds, never mind a whole hour. So I raced downstairs in a panic...and saw Hudson calmly watching MegaMind, and Ty sitting at the laptop. After I freaked out for a second or too about Ty missing work, he smugly asked, "So...do you want to go to Cora's for brunch?"
We had discussed going out for brunch for a joint Mother/Father's Day outing, but had not picked a day yet - so he lied to me all week and took the day off (he had one owed to him for coaching the school's baseball team), so we could go to the city for my favorite meal of all time!
Anyways, we dropped Hudson off with Raquel, and set off for Cora's, which is a fantastic breakfast/lunch spot - and ironically, it is right across the street from the building where I had my surgery! So in addition to having delicious raspberry crepes (I was still on soft food - not that I minded!), I got to smugly stare out the window at that big, brown building that stripped me of my crepe-eating abilities for far too many days. 'Take that, Dr.Stoykewich!' I thought evilly to myself.
When we got back to Rosenort, Hudson was out playing in Amber and Erik's yard with his cousins, a kiddie pool, and an orange popsicle (to be accurate, it was actually his third one, but who's counting?). He was just in a diaper, and covered in dirt and orange stickiness - exactly what a toddler should be on hot summer days!
Ok, I can stop there. A good ending to a long and toothless tale. I'm glad it is done and over with. It really took alot out of me for a few days, and kinda set me back for all the work that we still have to do around here, but now that work for both of us is almost done (Ty's ends today, and mine ends on the weekend), we can kick it in to high gear and just get it done. I have our last two weeks mapped out, and trust me, it's full!
Uh...The End...
all my bridesmaids absolutely loved the bags!!!! great job stef!!! you are so talented! i didnt know you were so sick when you were making them! i really appreciate all your hardwork! thanks again!
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