Oral Surgery (AKA Torture)

So, today I had a lovely surgery done on my mouth. I had what are called impacted canine teeth, which means that the adult teeth hadn't been able to push out the baby teeth, so they were just hanging out in the roof of my mouth. So, what they had to do was pull my baby teeth, wiggle and yank on my adult teeth, attach a bracket, attach a chain to the bracket that will later attach to my braces, and then sew me up. FUN!!!

I had a few options as far as anesthesia goes. I could do just the local anesthetic, or do that with laughing gas, or an IV with some other sedative that would put me to sleep. I chose the laughing gas and local. MISTAKE.

First of all, the laughing gas took FOREVER to even affect me a little, and it still didn't really do much. And then, the other anesthetic kept wearing off during the surgery. It almost hurt more to get the injections in the roof of my mouth than the actual surgery, so I tried to tough it out for a little bit, but then said "ow," and they re-injected the anesthetic. DOUBLE OW!

I kept thinking they would be done soon. I'd been in there long enough, hadn't I? I started to feel a little panicky. After all, I was strapped onto this chair by the silly gas mask over my nose, with two - sometimes three - people digging and poking my mouth. It felt a bit horror movie-esque.

I kept looking at their gloves, noticing my blood on them. The same blood that kept trickling down my throat uncontrollably.

There is something so claustrophobic about not being able to swallow properly, or control what goes down your throat. And then, of course, the gauze they kept shoving down farther and farther didn't help much.

Finally, I felt it was coming to a close. The injections, prodding and poking, and noisy power drills were finally over, and I could leave and take some Advil. (By this time the pain was really starting to kick in.) But no, there was still more to come. They hadn't stitched me up yet! It was quite uncomfortable ( that's an understatement ) being able to feel the needle going in and out of the roof of my mouth, and then there's that lovely sensation as they pull the suture tight.

But at last, they were done. I could sit up, and finally absorb the traumatic experience I had just gone through. While trying to remain some sense of dignity by staunching the flow of blood and saliva oozing out my mouth.

Ok, question. WHY do dentists always try to have conversations with you at the most inconvenient times? Like when the anesthetic had just kicked in and my upper lip surpassed even Angelina Jolie. Or, when, like I said, blood and saliva are flowing freely from my mouth. They were lovely conversations, and I give props to them for being able to understand me, but still. Why?

I said that not being sedated was a mistake, but it is kind of cool being able to remember everything. Makes for better stories I suppose.

We finally were ready to leave the office, me not wanting to see the inside of that place EVER again. And knowing I will.

As soon as we were out of the presence of strangers, I was able to release the tears that had been building. That was quite a painful ordeal, and left me feeling shaken as well. But, Advil is a beautiful thing, as well as chocolate milk-shakes and top-ramen, and I'm feeling quite lovely now! The inside of my mouth does look pretty nasty, and the bleeding still hasn't really stopped, but I take what I can get. =)

Moral of the story, beauty may be pain, but beautiful teeth is TORTURE.