Wisdom

Last week I had my wisdom (teeth) surgically removed.

I was nervous. I know it’s a pretty standard procedure, but I couldn’t help worrying about the general anaesthetic. I had a little half-joke-half-deadly-serious conversation with my husband regarding his instructions in the unlikely event of my death…

“Don’t ever smack them, ask Sam to teach them about girl stuff, bras and periods, that sort of thing, don’t replace me! Oh! Ok, I suppose you can replace me…”

My husband squeezed my hand and told me not to worry. Every thing will be ok.

I was installed in a little room, given a delightful hat and gown combo (think ‘spring races’ meets ‘dental surgery’… ok… just think ‘dental surgery’) to wear and a stack of glossy magazines to flick through.

To be honest, I quite enjoyed the waiting around part. It’s not often I get to enjoy ‘alone time’, if I hadn’t have been nil-by-mouth I’d have asked for a cup of tea!

But then it was time. I was wheeled off to theatre. Well trained in sending patients off to sleep the anaesthetist asked me a few questions, I started to answer and somewhere between the meaning of little C’s name and the unusual spelling I was out… I guess…

Then I was having a lovely dream. Warm and cosy. I think there was some cuddling. I was somewhere nice anyway… beep… floating floating…. BEEP…

I heard one of the nurses laugh and say “Oh poor love, I bet that was the best sleep she’s had in years!”

And then, as they say, I was back in the room.

As things came back into focus the pain started to register, my mouth was full of gauze and blood and throbbing pain. I started to cry. Tears ran down my cheeks and into my ears. I think it was the shock. 

They wheeled me into ‘recovery’, wrapped ice blocks to my head and tried to make me eat jelly. At that point the idea of putting anything in my mouth seemed akin to stabbing myself in the leg with a very blunt fork…  I politely declined.

I thought that I’d enjoy my period of converlessing. That I’d stay in bed with the laptop whilst my husband took care of the kids and the house. ‘I’ll catch up on all the posts on my ‘to blog’ list. I’ll take care of my site maintenance. I’ll pitch for freelance work’… how wrong could I be.

The pain has been intense. The drugs have made me woozy. I’ve had about 0% motivation to write… I actually started to worry that the source of all my writing ability lay within my wisdom teeth…

For the most part I stayed in bed. My girls came to visit me, to watch Mickey Mouse on the laptop, or look at a picture book. G stroking my arm and asking again and again ‘You ok Mummy?’. It’s been hard on all of us.

Yesterday I turned a corner. It didn’t feel like it at the time. I sat in the chair in the surgeons office and tried to be brave as he removed some stiches… I told myself ‘I’ve had two babies! I can handle pain!’ and then I surrendered to it, sobbed my heart out and said ‘This is MUCH worse than childbirth!” 

The lovely nurse squeezed my hand and assured me that I would feel better once the stitches were out. I wasn’t convinced. The pain on the way home was as bad as it had been all week and showed no sign of letting up. I pride myself on keeping my sense of humour, but my week of pain had defeated me. I was thoroughly miserable.

I had ice cream for dinner. Again. (It’s not comfort food when it’s pretty much all you can eat). I had an early night.

And… this morning I woke up feeling dramatically better. It still hurts, but not with the same intensity. I realised I could smile. Sort of. I realised that the puffiness in my cheeks that had prevented my teeth from meeting (the main pre-requisite for chewing) had gone. I celebrated my return to solid food with a bowl of porridge…. Small steps people.

This morning I left the house with (a small) spring in my step. I watched the girls in their swimming lessons. I forgot about the dirty great big yellow bruises on my still rather swollen cheeks… I must have looked a sight… but the joy of feeling almost human was enough to keep me afloat.

And tomorrow my husband will go back to work (for a rest)… and life will continue as normal. Well, as normal as it gets round here anyway!