Dr. Peacock tells me a whopping 2% of people who get their wisdom teeth out end up with an infection roughly the size of the Prudential Center as a result of it. (Which probably means I should start buying lottery tickets, because: lucky.)
This past Friday I got the procedure done, and by Wednesday was wondering if the hot, hard, swollen jaw, extreme pain, inability to open my mouth, and *SKIP THIS LAST PART IF YOU’RE EATING DINNER, HAVE RECENTLY EATEN DINNER, OR ARE A FAN OF DINNER IN GENERAL* pus on my pillow after a night’s sleep is what you call “recovery.”
After relating this to a nice nurse named Debbie, she calmly told me to go straight to the ER. Don’t even stop and charge your phone. (It’s bad enough to be in the ER alone with a big, hot face and neck–but it’s a little bit worse to be there alone with a big, hot face and neck–AND a dying phone.) That is when three male handsome oral surgeons found me. They took me to a small room that was lacking in anesthesia. No really: NO ANESTHESIA. It was like a scene from the Civil War. I’m pretty sure that, had they not actually had to go *in* my mouth, they would have given me a bullet to bite while they irrigated my wound. Instead, one offered me his hand to squeeze. I would have preferred some anesthesia, but I took the hand, because unless you’re talking a mouth infection, I think we can all agree that something is better than nothing.
What I will say about what happened next is that in 10 hours of natural labor I didn’t cry once. In a few minutes of my mouth being cranked open, prodded, suctioned, squeezed, etc., I was crying hot tears. Okay, I was sobbing.
They told me to come back the next day. “Will there be anesthesia?” I asked, trying and failing to sound casual. To not sound like the starving person asking if there will be food at the party.
Thursday I was back at MGH. TWICE. The second, time begging for drugs, because I’d never felt pain like that before. It’s hard to describe, but it drove me out of my mind and I may or may not have sounded like a wounded animal while holding my face whimpering and rocking back and forth in the surgeon’s waiting room.
It’s been a rough week. There are a lot of people I’m in debt to. It not only takes a village to raise a human; I’ve found it takes a village to BE a human. I’m grateful for mine. I can’t say that enough. I’m on some strong antibiotics and some ridiculously strong pain meds and a drain in my mouth is doing it’s wonderful job.
Oh, and in the past 2 months I have collected 2 different surgeon’s personal numbers, “should you need me for anything at all,” they said (read: you’re a hot mess, Jess). But I don’t actually think y’all should be jealous of those numbers😬Anyway, that’s what’s up with me these days, lolz, TGIF, and all that jazz.