Day Five: So this is what a few shots of botox must feel like

Today was, all in all, the worst day of this whole experience.

Apparently all 20 or so remaining teeth thought my first day back at work would be a great opportunity to shift back into their original places after five years' of pressure forced them into crooked havens.

And it hurt like HELL.

20 toothaches. Simultaneously.

In addition to canker sores that have found homes on every corner of my mouth, the gritty feeling on all of my teeth and, oh yeah -- the four HOLES in my jaw.

But then something happened. About 1 hour after my complete meltdown to Scott and two hours after my latest dose of pain meds, the aching stopped (or at least paused, says this pessimist). But I loved it. So much that I swiffer'd the whole upstairs. And cleaned the couch I had made into a cocoon these past five days. And played hopefully my last game of Wii Price is Right for a long time.

It's bedtime and the aching is sort of thumping back, but I'm comforted that the mix of a soft pillow, Scott's snoring and my pain meds will alleviate that issue at least until morning.

The real test will be tomorrow and Thursday. I have three of the "baby" pain meds left -- enough to get me through until 11 p.m. tomorrow. But who's counting?

And enough Vicodin to land me on the front page of my newspaper if we reach the worst-case scenario.




*Thank you Jessica, Allison and Kassia for your kind words and positive thoughts -- I read them over and over the first couple of days and they got me through some tough moments. Thanks, ladies~ Allison, I'm excited to read your first blog! Blog away! I LOVE it*

Is it too much to ask to just speak without a lisp?

I'm getting cranky.

72 hours after surgery and I'm in more pain than I was at any point Thursday, Friday OR Saturday.

We had to up the ante by adding some hard-core "good stuff" pain meds to my sucky routine that consists of three pills, ice packs, applesauce and salt-water rinses.

There's way too much pressure -- put there by myself -- to try to be back to tip-top working condition TOMORROW for interviews, stories and the such. I can't even walk to the bathroom without throbbing pain coming from one to four corners of my swollen, stiff, pissed-off little jaw.

And I've had FOUR milkshakes. I don't want anymore.

Bring me a filet mignon.
And a case of beer.

Any excuse for a delicious strawberry milkshake

I am a stubborn person. (Scott will read this and laugh with a sarcastic, "NO!")

I also tend to freak out when I really should just try to stay sane and be positive. (Scott is probably snorting at this point.)

With that being said (Scott, are you listening???) I freaked out for no reason.
The wisdom teeth surgery went really well, or at least I assume it did because I remember none of it.

I was brought into a small room, told to sit into a room, asked my weight (on a side note, I had NO idea, so I ventured on the high end in case it dealt with how much anesthesia I could get, haha), hooked up to a blood pressure and pulse monitor and slammed with a mask of oxygen over my nose.

The doctor came in and surprised me with a good ole IV in my right arm. I remember freaking out about that, watching the numbers on the monitor spike instantly and being asked if I was OK. I responded with something semi-affirmative and was told by the doc "The worst part is over. You'll be sleeping soon... and then you'll be sleeping some more."

He was so right.

Scott told me about being asked to count backwards from 100 and I've heard stories of being asked about Disney Land visits.

I was all set to start counting. Instead, I watched the pulse go from the 70s to 69, and then 68, and then, wait is it an IV anesthesia? Man that guy IS sneaky. Then 67...

... and then 35 minutes later, I somehow made it to a recovery room across the hallway where Scott was brought in to meet me.

I was shaking for about 10 minutes, probably from the anesthesia, but that went away, I laid back, didn't say anything and was allowed to leave shortly after. (Unlike the bratty teen in the room next to me who couldn't leave because of her bipolar recovery techniques... "I want a burger... Ow, this hurts... Mom, I want to go. No, Mom I can't move. Waaaaaaaah."

I never even knew how much gauze I had, bloodied and hanging out of my mouth, until Scott had gone out for an hour or so to run some errands and I went to scratch my nose and ran into the gauze with my fingertips.

I guess when Scott went to pick up my prescriptions, he was under intense scrutiny for fear of him picking up the hard drugs for his addiction. He tried to take the pressure off of him by asking about drug interactions, at which point he was humiliated in public about birth control not working for about a month after interaction with one of my prescriptions.

"Yeah, that was fun," Scott retorted when I teased him about it.

He's been a great male nurse, although I told him I would raise his salary if he worked in the buff or had bought five strawberry milkshakes instead of just one, which I inhaled like I may never eat again.

He's still pretty darned great, though.

And I survived!!!

I'm all about looking hot on my wedding day, but a liquid diet was not in my plans.

Ugh.
I am getting my wisdom teeth -- all four -- out tomorrow morning.

AND I AM FREAKING OUT!

The sane half of me nods calmly and agrees, yes millions of people get their wisdom teeth out every day, and you never really hear any horror stories. Not a big deal.

Right, fine. Mmm-hmm.

But really, my other half is much more powerful. She's the half that is freaking out. Wondering why she waited so long to go through with this. Wondering if she can sue her dentist from 1999 who said she probably didn't need to worry about getting them out, you know, especially since she was on her dad's insurance at that time and all.

I'm insanely lucky because Scott will be with me every step of the way, driving me to the appointment, and back, preparing all sorts of watery delicasies, like applesauce and soup. Did I mention he bought *TWO* pints of Ben and Jerry's for me? What a good guy.

Right, fine. OK, but I'm STILL FREAKIN' OUT over here.

The oral surgeon said my bottom teeth might have roots near my nerves, but -- don't worry -- only an 8 percent chance of PERMANENT nerve damage. OH, and those top two teeth? Just a smidge too close to the sinus cavity for his liking.

Oh, and the whole anesthesia thing will be a new experience for me. I woke myself up in the middle of the night last night realizing there might be needles and blood involved. I'M DEATHLY AFRAID OF BOTH!!!

Did I mention I'm freaking out???? I AM!

Scott thought it would be really funny to tell me how during his surgery years ago, he woke up and felt pressure and heard EVERYTHING that was going on.

No more caps.
I'm just going to say that I'm really.totally. absolutely.freakin.out.

I did this to myself. I wanted to go to all the possible doctors out there (while I still have insurance...) and just get a 100 percent go-for-it good, clean bill of health for becoming a wife and then a mom at some point. But this??? This is just crazyness. I'm literally losing my mind.

And no one likes the mommy that talks to herself.