It has been an interesting few days! Whew. Let's just say that I'm insanely glad that I did all four wisdom teeth at once because there is no way I would have done this little adventure again.
My appointment was scheduled for 9 am on Thursday morning, and since I was going under with an IV, I had to stop eating solid food eight hours before, and stop all clear liquids two hours before. The doctor strongly urged me to have something to drink right before that two hour cutoff, so I got up around 6:30 to throw some Gatorade and water down the hatch and have plenty of time to freak out. My dad was nice enough to take me to the appointment, and he stayed in the room while they put in the IV, which was great. From there... things get a little fuzzy. I believe I told the technician that I loved her, and my dad said I was very polite and sweet to everyone there. Which is good because now I hate them all for causing me pain.
I did take some pictures immediately following the surgery, but those are not fit to be seen by anyone. Even me. Horrific. I do remember being helped out by my dad and one of the very nice women working there. Then my dad took me to Sonic to get the blended float that I was begging for. When I got home, I pretty much took over the couch, and then this happened for a while.
Only for the most part there was no thumbs up. Aren't I attractive here? I should probably go ahead and submit that to People magazine so that they begin considering me for next year's "Most Beautiful People" issue.
The first day actually went pretty well. I slept a lot, watched some TV, and mainly just took it easy. I started taking the prescribed Percocet before the numbness wore off (I was numb forever, it was wonderful) which undoubtedly helped with my perception of the world. I watched a movie with my dad that night and had some soup, then went to bed with my head propped up.
Yesterday was when the fun really began. I woke up in the morning in a good amount of pain and immediately took some Percocet. Percocet, as it turns out, is the quickest bad relationship I've ever had. Like any good charmer, he was incredibly helpful and caring the day I met him. He immediately made me feel better, and was even there for me at 3 in the morning when I couldn't sleep. Then in the morning, he promised to take care of me... but it was a false promise. By afternoon, all I wanted was to get rid of him, but he got clingy and refused to go with a fight.
Less metaphorically speaking? Percocet made me sicker than a dog. And it moved fast. I was fine for hours, and then tried to stand up to get some water and felt dizzy, woozy, and nauseous. I laid down and fell asleep for an hour and a half (the benefit of narcotics is that they kill time well), which I hoped would help, but no dice. By the end of the night, I had gotten very sick and kind of thought I was going to die. Luckily, I fell asleep around 9:30 and except for waking up at 11:45 to move from the couch to my very welcoming bed, I stayed asleep and felt insanely better in the morning. Plus, I had a fun thing to greet me this morning.
Today has been worlds better than yesterday. I stopped taking the Percocet since I wanted my intestines to actually stay inside my body, and have been completely fine using just Advil. And I finally got some real food today - my mom made me a scrambled egg with cheese this morning, and got me a chocolate milkshake this afternoon. Plus, I think I get to attempt macaroni and cheese tonight for dinner which thrills me to no end. I just took an insanely hot bath which felt so good to my muscles, who are not happy at me for all of this laying around on the couch nonsense.
My parents have been great nurses, but they both made me jealous today because they got to exercise. I'm surprised at how wiped out I am from the whole thing, so it's not like I have the energy to be active, but it's hard to be sidelined like this. Didn't someone smart and famous say something about injury and illness being a great equalizer? Because someone smart and famous probably should have. I can brag all day long about how I got through P90X, or I can beat myself up because I can't run an 8 minute mile... but then somebody yanks some teeth out of my mouth and it really doesn't matter.
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