Once upon a time, I got my wisdom teeth removed. Ryan just recently got his removed, but I promised I would keep the details of his post-anesthesia actions and words to myself. So here’s what happened to me:
Gruffalo (then known as “Dad”) took me to my early appointment on a Friday morning. Dad was always the designated care giver when it came to emergency injuries and surgeries because my mom threw up in the doctor’s office when I broke my two front teeth and my wrist when I was ten. I wasn’t nervous at all, and when I went to the back room and got all hooked up to the IV, they told me to close my eyes and go spend some time on the beach. So I did. Then I woke up and the nurse and doctor and Gruffalo were there, and I think I was there too, but that part isn’t really clear. I remember getting in the car and asking my dad – multiple times – if I said thank you to all the nurses and the doctor, because I thought they did a really good job. When it was evident that I wasn’t really communicating this, I realized that I had giant cotton chunks in my mouth, muffling my words. Cotton balls, swabs, squares – anythings – really gross me out. Especially when it is of the medical variety or on top of the bottle of asprin, because you can hear the cotton squeak in between your fingertips. Yuck! So, although I was thoroughly disgusted with the cotton situation in my mouth, I continued to try to talk to my dad. Apparently I had a lot to say, and thought it was pretty urgent information. So I wrote it down. And my dad laughed and shook his head yes and sometimes no. And then I think I slept for 93 hours and had hallucinations of my teeth rotting out. When I woke up with my head screwed on straight, we looked at the notes that I had written to my dad. Remember when you were 6 and pretended to write in cursive by making squiggly lines across the paper? That’s what they looked like. No wonder he was laughing at me!
I thought I might die that weekend. Ryan has done a much better job than I did. And he realized he likes applesauce. This is good news. He also ate two cups of strawberry yogurt in one day, which is also good news. Now we have two more things we can eat together. I’m pleased. Yogurt is a staple in my diet, and I’d love to share a cup with him.