cavatica

A buddy wrote about her root canal experience yesterday, so I guess I'd better write about mine.

It's a long story, and this is the short version.

First off, I never got the actual root canal. After my dentist consulted with my periodontist, we were all in agreement that the molar (henceforth #31) needed to get yanked altogether, for various hygienic, financial, and cosmetic reasons. They were also going to yank my upper right wisdom tooth (#1), which had not yet erupted and never would, as it was attempting to grow in sideways.

I would remind the jury that teeth growing in sideways does not feel good.

They also asked if, while they were in there, I would like them to remove the lower left wisdom tooth (#17) and fill in a bunch of cavities on my left side. YES, PLEASE, quoth I.

So they put some needles in my mouth -- the nerves around #31 did NOT take kindly to that at all -- and let me sit for a while, barefoot and blanketed, and various pulse monitors on my left arm. I had to get up and pee several times because that's what I do when I'm nervous, but then I was more or less good to go. The doc stuck a needle in my arm -- no sweat there -- and then I said, "That feels warm."

I looked down and said, "Oh. It's warm because it's bleeding everywhere." I don't know why this was, but it was.

So they mopped me up and cleaned me off and then I was go for launch, so they dripped some fluids into me for a while (thank God; I was getting dehydrated fast, and had the shakes), and after a few more minutes he said, "Okay, I'm going to do a small dose of Valium in the drip to see how you take to it."

"Okay."

A minute passed. Maybe less than a minute.

And I said, "Ohhhhhh."
He said, "What?"
"It's working already."
"Already?"
"Mm hmmm." Floaty, floaty, floaty. Nervousness osmosed from my fingers and toes and into the air and was gone and vanquished forever; a few stray tears dried on my face and I sighed and lay back.

So he went away a while longer, and my eyes fluttered open and shut, and the heart monitor went beep-beep, beep-beep, and the cuff on my arm compressed and held and let go. And then the doc came back in and said, "I'm going to give you the rest of it now."

And I smiled dreamily and said, "Goodbye."
He laughed, said, "Goodbye."

I was in and out -- once, I remember them drilling as they filled my cavities, and then I blinked back into darkness again -- and again, I think once I woke and reached for the doctor's arm, something warm to hold, something to comfort and sedate, and he put it back on the armrest and I disappeared again. And then The Boyfriend was there, and they helped me into a blue wheelchair, and put me into the passenger seat of The Boyfriend's station wagon. He said, "I'm going to take you over to Kerr Drug to get your Percoset script filled."

"Nnn, uh-huh."

I woke up, and we weren't in front of Kerr but in front of Eckerd. I murmured, "Why aren't we at Kerr?"

Grouchily, insulted, "They didn't carry it!"
Soporifically, softly, a mouth full of wetly metallic gauze, "Oh." Back to unconsciousness. And then he was helping me out of the car and into the house, and I was on the couch downstairs, and I was taking my antibiotic, and I was asleep, asleep, asleep. Sometimes The Boyfriend gently woke me and changed my gauze. Slept again, woke again, slept again. Apparently he went and picked my Percoset up sometime. I don't know when.

Finally, I woke enough for The Boyfriend to help me up to my bed. He climbed in with me, cuddled quietly. I don't know how long we lay there. The phone rang once. I heard, "There is no Mr. M. here, and Mrs. M. <Distantly, at the end of a fog-thick tunnel: Why is he referring to me as Mrs. M.?> is sedated. No. She is not available. She's sedated. No." I groped for the phone to hang it up. He hung it up first. Something about BellSouth wanting us to upgrade our DSL.

I laughed, took a few more steps into daylight. "I'm hungry." Cuddled, talked, woke, dressed. Had some water, some applesauce. And then some more applesauce. I was awake now, and we went to Food Lion and got the trappings of a strawberry-banana smoothie, the kind I learned to make at a coffee shop where I used to work.

-One banana, broken into pieces
-A handful of frozen strawberries
-One full cup of strawberry yogurt
-A splash of fruit punch Juicy Juice
-A generous squeeze of honey
-About half a tray of ice

(You can also do this with blueberries, or raspberries, or whatever you want. And you can add whatever yogurt you want; if you're doing, say, strawberry-blueberry, you can add either strawberry yogurt or blueberry yogurt, depending on which you want to taste more of.)

Blend it up and top with whipped cream. Makes about two 20 oz. glasses. And oh god, oh god, it was just what I wanted. I had another one, and so did The Boyfriend. We watched some TV, climbed into bed (he held my wrists, slipped my bracelets off one by one, set them on the night table; no words, except, "Do you sleep with your ring on?" "No."; and I raised my arms over my head and he slipped off my shirt -- like a seven-year-old, like my mom used to do, my eyes so heavy and my arms so weak -- and we turned off the light and we slept, and never once did I wake with my jaw aflame).

So today I'm at work, and I feel so, SO much better. The stitches where #1 used to be are poking me a little bit, but I've had some more applesauce, and two cups of hot chai, which were wonderful. Thinking about trying that banana. I haven't even needed any of the Percoset; Tylenol's been doing just fine. I feel like they've cured cancer. It's raining and dusky and cool. I can't wait to go home and curl up quietly and maybe update you all about Dragon*Con and Vermont.

And I think that's pretty much all there is worth telling, just now. But, naturally, I'll keep y'all updated, because you know I love nothing better than to share the state of my various unpleasant bodily functions. ;>