After years and years of putting it off, I've finally done it.
Last Wednesday I had my remaining wisdom teeth taken out. For those of you who don't know, I had seven (yes, seven) to start off. I had four on the bottom and three on the top. Two of my top ones got pulled in April last year, and I was informed that I desperately needed to have the others removed.
I had my first dentist appointment back in Tuscaloosa with my new dentist in October, and he wrote me a referral for an oral surgeon in town. And the putting it off resumed. I did NOT want to call for my consult appointment, but I finally did and ended up visiting in early December and scheduling the surgery for Jan. 7.
Bobby stayed over the night before the surgery so he could drive me to and from the oral surgeon's office. That morning we couldn't find my keys, then my car wouldn't start with the spare key (and his passenger door is broken, so we couldn't take his). We finally found my regular set of keys and ended up being about 20 minutes late for the surgery. They still took me back. I think there was a part of me that was hoping they wouldn't.
The hygienist/dental assistant who took me back made small talk, and I told him I was extremely nervous. He checked my blood pressure and heart rate, chuckled and said that, yes, I really must be anxious about the impending surgery. He hooked me up to the IV, my doctor came in and said hi, and I was pretty much out from there. I do remember waking up very briefly during the surgery, hearing some of what was going on and feeling a tiny bit of pain, but I was quickly back under.
Once the surgery was over, I was surprisingly alert. I sat in a chair in the recovery area for a few minutes, my mouth packed with gauze, and Bobby picked me up at a side door. He was clearly surprised at how not-groggy I was. When we got home, he actually had to talk me into going to bed, because I wasn't sleepy and had enough pain meds in me that I felt OK otherwise.
He stayed with me over the next few days and took great care of me, putting up with my whining and my trying to do too much. He made me lots of soup and bought me flowers.
Altogether the surgery wasn't nearly as bad as I feared. I did have a lot of swelling, and I had to make an unexpected trip back to the surgeon's office yesterday because of some bad pain. But they got that taken care of, and I'll be going back tomorrow for them to check on everything again. I still have stitches in, but in a couple of weeks, everything will be normal.
I'm really glad I finally had it done. It was a big fear for me to face, and I think a huge part of that was my worry that I would be incapacitated and dependent on someone else. But thankfully none of it was that bad, and Bobby did a wonderful job looking after me.
Last Wednesday I had my remaining wisdom teeth taken out. For those of you who don't know, I had seven (yes, seven) to start off. I had four on the bottom and three on the top. Two of my top ones got pulled in April last year, and I was informed that I desperately needed to have the others removed.
I had my first dentist appointment back in Tuscaloosa with my new dentist in October, and he wrote me a referral for an oral surgeon in town. And the putting it off resumed. I did NOT want to call for my consult appointment, but I finally did and ended up visiting in early December and scheduling the surgery for Jan. 7.
Bobby stayed over the night before the surgery so he could drive me to and from the oral surgeon's office. That morning we couldn't find my keys, then my car wouldn't start with the spare key (and his passenger door is broken, so we couldn't take his). We finally found my regular set of keys and ended up being about 20 minutes late for the surgery. They still took me back. I think there was a part of me that was hoping they wouldn't.
The hygienist/dental assistant who took me back made small talk, and I told him I was extremely nervous. He checked my blood pressure and heart rate, chuckled and said that, yes, I really must be anxious about the impending surgery. He hooked me up to the IV, my doctor came in and said hi, and I was pretty much out from there. I do remember waking up very briefly during the surgery, hearing some of what was going on and feeling a tiny bit of pain, but I was quickly back under.
Once the surgery was over, I was surprisingly alert. I sat in a chair in the recovery area for a few minutes, my mouth packed with gauze, and Bobby picked me up at a side door. He was clearly surprised at how not-groggy I was. When we got home, he actually had to talk me into going to bed, because I wasn't sleepy and had enough pain meds in me that I felt OK otherwise.
He stayed with me over the next few days and took great care of me, putting up with my whining and my trying to do too much. He made me lots of soup and bought me flowers.
Altogether the surgery wasn't nearly as bad as I feared. I did have a lot of swelling, and I had to make an unexpected trip back to the surgeon's office yesterday because of some bad pain. But they got that taken care of, and I'll be going back tomorrow for them to check on everything again. I still have stitches in, but in a couple of weeks, everything will be normal.
I'm really glad I finally had it done. It was a big fear for me to face, and I think a huge part of that was my worry that I would be incapacitated and dependent on someone else. But thankfully none of it was that bad, and Bobby did a wonderful job looking after me.
1 comments:
Be glad they put you under. You would NOT want to have endure a series of 18 mouth shots and then the horrible cracking, grinding sounds and the pressure of them wrenching around in your grill. Thank you, U.S. Navy.