Tuesday, January 29, 2008

puffy

I had my lower wisdom teeth out yesterday, which marked my first experience with general anesthetic, followed by my first prescription for Vicodin. I was nervous about the former—that I would either die or, like, deliriously confess my wildest sexual fantasies to the hygienist assisting with the surgery.

There was an episode of Ellen—pre-coming-out—where she got high on nitrous and started hitting on her dentist. Although the dentist was a man, I always suspected that the plotline grew out of a fear that all closeted queers have of losing control and outing oneself.

But as far as I can remember, the most embarrassing thing that happened was that my dad, who drove me to the appointment, insisted on asking my oral surgeon a bunch of questions afterward, including whether he could see my extracted teeth (he could not). He was already disappointed that he hadn’t gotten a chance to refer me to his oral surgeon. My dad’s a control freak too, which is probably where I get it, not so much from being gay.

The Vicodin was also uneventful. And—knock on wood—I haven’t been in much pain, so I didn’t take a second dose. Pot has never done anything for me either, dammit. What’s a girl supposed to do when she wants to let go a little?

7 comments:

Claire said...

Was the hygienist cute? That's the real question. ;)

Your wisdom teeth were impacted, I take it? I had all mine out years ago (not impacted) and they let me have 'em. They're probably still around somewhere in storage.

Cheryl said...

It was a little hard to tell if she was cute beneath the scrubs, surgical mask and hat. Plus I had my drug goggles on, so what did I know?

Yeah, the teeth were half-buried under my gums. In my mind, my mouth was the perfect place to store them, but my dentist disagreed.

Anonymous said...

When I came out from under general anesthesia after my wisdom teeth extraction expedition, the one thing I was able to communicate was that I wanted my teeth. Since I was delirious, crying, vomiting blood, and more than a little crazy, they actually dug one out of the sterile garbage for me.
-Christine

thelastnoel said...

Ain't it something that you have something called Wisdom pulled from your head?

Cheryl said...

Christine: You are an amazing consumer advocate, even (especially?) under extreme circumstances. I am impressed.

Noel: And what does it say when your wisdom goes rotten?

Tracy Lynn said...

Vicodin is kind of weak, plus you were in pain, so I, as a confirmed pillhead, am going to recommend a dose of, say three. For the Letting Loose.

Of course, as a recovering pillhead,...yeah, I still say three. And I will add a carbonated beverage, because bubbles are GOOD.

Cheryl said...

Like Vic-and-Pepsi? As a non-recovering sugar-head, that sounds great.