Down Three Teeth

I saw the new year in with a throbbing jaw, thanks to the movement of a wisdom tooth that had been dormant since my twenties (my twenties, not the twenties. There is a difference, thanks). Cassie had a stinking cold as well, so quite the sorry pair we made. We were having some friends over for a relatively quiet new year dinner, and this meant it would be even quieter. So at the same time as buying wine (for mulling – yum) and food, I went to Rite Aid to collect the penicillin my dentist had kindly phoned through for me. That kept me going until my appointment with the dentist back in San Diego, who prodded around with his implements and recommended I have it out. The date was set for last Friday.

It would involve enough sedation and anaethesia to prevent me from driving home – I would need to be dropped off and picked up. Cassie was unable to take work days off, after the extended break we’d just had. Luckily, my friends Brian & Stacy were free to come down to San Diego, take me to the oral surgeon first thing in the morning, and then pick up the drooling, moaning results. So they came down on Thursday, we went for a disappointing meal (after rave reviews on Twitter) at Crazy Burger. To be honest, I wasn’t feeling in the mood for beef’n’beer, or ostrich’n’beer or croc or anything else – I was nervous about the needle. I’ll go back another time – I’m sure it’s really good if you’re into it.

Early Friday morning B&S took me to the Center for Oral Surgery, and we hung out in the waiting room watching the standard dentist fishtank and reading Newsweek magazine. Then I was summoned. They took a once-around X-ray, (I must get hold of these images sometime) and then it was time to be knocked out.

I had to have one tooth out, but I spoke to the dentist about another one which has given me problems in the past, and he said he’s take that one out too while he was in there, and while I was out. This  meant he had to take the one above it out as well for some dental reason. The fourth could remain, it was so well embedded in my head.

I got nice and comfy, then they covered me up with plastic sheeting to protect my clothes, the walls etc. The nice anaesthetist first had me breathing some laughing gas, which did actually make me giggle. Well, that and the anaesthetist’s statement that she was my new favourite drug dealer. Then the IV went in and it was bye-bye.

I woke up with a head full of gauze, both physically and mentally. I decided to relax for a while on my recovery room bed, then B&S came and took me home. I was given Vicodin and Amoxycillin, and went to bed, and to la-la land.

Cassie came down from LA later and took over my care – the first thing she said was, “Can I slap you in the face?”. The weekend consisted of chilling out, maxing and relaxing all cool (no B-Ball though), popping pills and eating a variety of soft or liquid foods. It reminded me of the scene in Trainspotting when Renton kicks heroin using the Sick Boy Method.

“Recovering from Oral Surgery. Stage One: preparation. For this you will need:

  • one room which you will not leave
  • one sofa
  • one bed
  • one television
  • one DVD player
  • chicken soup, for consumption warm
  • tomato soup, for consumption warm
  • mushroom soup, for consumption warm
  • ice cream, vanilla, one large tub
  • Trader Joe’s Belgian Chocolate Pudding, one tub
  • Vicodin pills, one bottle
  • Amoxicillin capsules, one bottle
  • Ibuprofen pills, one bottle
  • salt water mouth rinse, several glasses
  • Carnation Instant Breakfast, various flavours,
  • Jello, strawberry flavour, one bowl
  • rice pudding 
  • The Internet and it’s colourful cousin, the World Wide Web
  • one fully-appointed bathroom

And now I’m ready. All I need is a final Vicodin to soothe the pain while the Amoxicillin takes effect…”