As many of you may know, I got my wisdom teeth removed last Friday. I'll admit, I had always been secretly a little bit curious to know what it is like to get them removed. Well guess what, it COMPLETELY sucked. And I've been left totally brain dead for the past few days, with short spurts of "I can do intelligent people things!" every now and then which has gotten me through most of my homework. Right now, I feel like I have the cognitive ability to blog, so I'm going to describe the Linsane (not really) experience I've had with my teeth.
Like I said, I was a little excited at first. But mostly, I was afraid that I wouldn't wake up from the anesthetic. I can't believe I spelled that word right on the first try. Anyways, I got to the dentist and the first thing they had me do was rinse out my mouth with this stuff that tasted like bitter nasty. When I was in the bathroom, I realized that they had Fresh Market Apple hand soap! Which is, of course, my favorite scent that Bath and Body Works still offers (curse you for discontinuing I Love Boys!) So I got my hands smelling all good, and then waited. While I waited, I read an article about twin studies. (All of these little details might explain why I drunk texted what I did after my surgery).
When I got called back, the nurse sat me down and attached some weird clamps to my wrists and told me they were there to make sure nothing went wrong with my heart. I asked, "like if it stops?" And she gave me...a really sad look. Me and that nurse had an interesting, and short lived relationship. I was knocked out for most of it.
Then the dentist came in and stuck an IV in my arm. I've only ever had one other experience of having an IV in my arm and that too sucked, so I took comfort in the fact that I would be unconscious for most of having a needle stuck in my arm. The dentist injected several different funny looking vials into my arm, and told me that the room would probably start to look funny. The last thing I remember is thinking, "DON'T FALL ASLEEP KAELA!! DON'T FALL ASLEEP!!"
When I woke up, it was like any other morning. My dad telling me that I needed to wake up and go to seminary. Actually it was nothing like that. I could hear my heart rate on the monitor, and I thought it was funny how when I stopped breathing the machine would beep faster. My dad and a concerned nurse were standing over me telling me to keep breathing, but to keep my mouth shut. I also couldn't find my face. I couldn't feel it, so I assumed that it just wasn't there. Apparently the first thing I said was "I'm so fat!" because my chin felt really puffy. Then I realized my dad was there and when I looked at him...he just looked like he hadn't shaved in forever. So I told him that he needed to shave. I don't remember it, but apparently I also told him that he was black. At this point, I was still refusing to breathe, and my heart was going something like 130 beats per minute. I was relatively awake, but I couldn't talk. So I pointed. I sat there and pointed at everything like a little grudge child. The nurse was giving me instructions about how I was supposed to live my life for the next few days, but I wasn't even listening. I was too busy wondering where my face went. Also, I could feel a little part of my bottom retainer, so I thought they had also given me a tongue piercing, which I was really upset about. But most importantly, there was something in the bathroom that I was determined to get before I left.
I'm sure anybody who watched me leave was highly amused to see a small, bleeding girl who looked like a puffer fish stumble out of the room, pointing furiously at the bathroom and saying, repeatedly, "Soap! Soap!" but they wouldn't give it to me. I wanted them to give me that half full bottle of soap so badly and they wouldn't. I was really mad. They did give me a blanket though.
When my dad managed to get me inside of the car, all I wanted was to be upside down. For some reason, rolling around all over his car just sounded like a really great idea. Luckily, I was restrained by a seat belt. My dad also promised me a Frosty, which got me talking non-stop about Frosties. He also gave me my phone back, which may not have been the best idea, because I drunk texted three of my friends some pretty embarrassing stuff, the most harmless being "I heard you gave birth to a dolphin."
For some reason, after the surgery I was just going crazy about sea animals. I couldn't stop thinking about seals and dolphins, and somehow my dad offering to rent Mr. Poppers penguins just encouraged me. My only explanation for this, I think, is because I looked in the mirror and decided that I looked like an ugly, red, sad, sea cow.
My dad rented the movie, picked up my drugs, bought me a frosty, and took me home. I just remember sitting at my table on the verge of tears because I couldn't eat my frosty without getting blood in it. Gross, I know. I still love Frosties. Don't judge.
After I had eaten and taken my meds, I, unlike normal humans, didn't go take a long nap. I went straight downstairs and watched an entire season of 30 Rock. It wasn't even that funny. But it was mindless, and it kept me distracted.
At this point, I really have to thank my family for everything they did. My mom and dad waited on me for everything. They brought me food, medicine, and let me watch as much TV as I wanted. I even threw up three times into my dad's dinner, and he didn't get mad at me at all. My love for my family, and anybody who took any sort of pity on me, grew a lot.
The problem with the surgery was that afterwards, I couldn't feel any sort of emotion whatsoever. I felt like I had been reverted back to some sort of primitive child-like state where I could only point to things because talking hurt too much and anybody who gave me food or attention was immediately my hero. I became unnaturally attached to that blanket they gave me at the dentist. I sat on my couch, holding an ice pack to my face, and my blanket in my other hand, and occasionally cried, or threw up, or fell asleep, or ate...yep, I was just like a baby.
The only difference is that this baby got accepted to college! Long story short, I checked my application status online, saw that I had been accepted, witnessed mixed reactions from my family, but I felt nothing. I didn't feel happy, or sad, or confused, or worried, or ecstatic. Nothing. Just nauseous. And then I threw up.
On Saturday, I woke up and watched 30 Rock all day. I got through just about 2 more seasons. I don't know why I watched so much 30 Rock. Later that evening I was watching Kung Fu Panda 2 when Yon Soo, Claire, Karli and Nick came over to bring me ice cream. I almost cried for several reasons, A) I was still in severe amounts of pain, so talking just made that worse B) so did smiling, but I couldn't stop smiling because I was so happy that some of my friends had remembered me C) I couldn't remember the last time I showered, and I knew I looked extremely puffy and ugly, so that was pretty embarrassing. D) And finally, I wasn't sure if my friends were actually there, or if I was just imagining it. Briana also came over on Sunday and gave me ice cream. I had just about the same reaction. I was also planning on going to the temple the next day with my family, but I was in too much pain and our plans just kind of fell through, and that made me cry too. It's like all I could think about was crying and eating. In fact, that's still pretty much all I can think about. Crying and eating. I want another frosty.
So really, the fun "sit around and do nothing while people pamper you" part is over. I went to school today and it was terrible. Now that I'm getting used to my meds, I'm still in tons of pain. I also have gross yellow bruises on my jaw, and whenever I talk I want to cry because it hurts so bad. And I felt really pathetic at school, not talking to anybody or moving because it hurt too much, and I think the combination of my meds and the pain just make me miserable. It feels like my face is being repeatedly punched 24/7. Even taking pain medication doesn't really do anything. I also hear the ocean...but I'm not sure why.
Okay, so I'm just going crazy now. I'm really going to try to stay positive from here on out...but really, I just want another frosty. And a gentle hug. On my hand. I want a hand hug.
I always know that once the quality of my blog starts to deteriorate, it's time to be done. So I'm wrapping this up. Bottom line, people tell you that getting your wisdom teeth out isn't that bad, but it actually severely sucks, and being in pain 24/7 is pretty much the worst.
I'm a much more positive person when I don't feel like I just got in a fight with an angry tooth yanking monkey.