The recovery process
I'll talk about the actual wisdom teeth surgery later (it was pretty good, actually), but right now I want to talk about right now. I felt well enough to go to work today but I have figured out that actually working is a whole lot different than sitting on the couch watching the Leafs lose. First of all, the Tylenol has started to kick in and my brain is all over the place. I can barely concentrate on anything, my reading comprehension is almost nil, and my memory is nonexistent. Secondly, without my ice packs, I notice my jaw hurting a bit more. It's not too bad thanks to the drugs, but it's not great either. I'm kinda dizzy and tired though, and I can certainly see why you wouldn't want to drive a car. Definitely not taking a Tylenol at lunch if my head is still swimming by then; I want to be able to drive home safe even if it means my jaw hurting a little bit more.
I got a long email from a client today in response to a request for information I sent last week. I cannot understand a word of it, even though it is in plain English. I will ignore it until at least tomorrow. I have to do some calcs for a retaining wall yet I can barely figure out how to use my software, which I have used hundreds of times.
And now my stomach is really starting to hurt. I don't know why. Maybe it's the drugs. But it's unpleasant - in that John Hurt in Alien kind of way.
I shoulda stayed in bed.
Labels: personal, wisdom teeth
Decreed by King Aardvark @ 10:32 a.m.
4 Comments
4 Comments:
I have chronic pain and have found it best to keep all medications to a minimum. They got somewhat upset with me last year, I was hit by a car and wouldn't take most of the pain killers, just enough to take off the edge. The added crop from the car running me down would have been too much. I have to function.
I've found that it's like is said in "Laurence of Arabia" when they're doing the match trick. The trick isn't that the manouvre doesn't hurt, it's not MINDING very much that it hurts.
Holy shizen, that really isn't making me feel good about my wisdom teeth surgery comin' up in May.
I've gotta go under general anasthesia and have all 4 teeth removed. Apparently, the orthodontist has said that my jaw is 'deformed' somehow, thus it's going to be some pretty wicked cutting. That's why I needed to blood tests (for the anesthetic).
I'm feeling a bit better right now, Carlo. Actually, for me it was a very good surgery and I just felt bad this morning for whatever reason. In fact, I was darn good Friday and Saturday and feeling pretty alert, eating ok (nothing too solid yet) and not in too much pain. It was much better than anticipated.
My problem today probably resulted from actually getting up in the morning and trying to do actual real work while still being on the drugs. My brain can't keep up with the stresses of drugs, need for sleep, pain, and thinking all at the same time, so it's conking out on me. Still, I'd rather have the muddy brain and no pain than vice versa. If I were at home resting with an ice pack right now, I'd be pleased as punch with the results.
Now, in your case, with the deformed jaw, you're screwed. Sorry. Your cheeks will probably swell up like watermelons. =P
Just kidding, of course. I hope everything goes well with your surgery. It does sound like you'll have to be on serious pain killers for a while afterwards. I wouldn't expect to be going to work again right away if I were you. I'm very lucky that I'm in such good shape now.
My front lower teeth are very crooked and stick out sharp end forward. A lot of my fellow horn players wonder how I can actually stand to play as it looks like I'd be gouging my lower lip.
That happened on the worst day of my life.
I started music when I was eight years old and we were stationed in Germany. I got there after all the instruments had been given out but one (arrived late October)and all that was left was a full sized viola. Didn't know that a child as small as me wasn't supposed to start on something like that, but hey. The next year I'd caught on pretty well, but the army decided that they needed the instruments back and if you wanted to play you had to have your own. We lived in Mannheim, and my father knew the town very well, and he knew where there was a luthier. We went down, tried out some violas, and they recommended one. They told my father, then a first lieutenant, how much this would cost, and he looked me in the eye and said, "Wouldn't ya like to play the trumpet like yer Uncle Jack?" He knew how much a trumpet cost and it sure wasn't as much as a viola. And I knew I was being offered music, take it or leave it, so I took it. Had to learn a new clef, get an embouchier, the whole thing. He rented me a trumpet until the one he ordered came in.
Then came the worst day of my life. His commanding officer's son was my best friend, and we were wrestling around and he brought his head up under my chin, and when our fathers came home very shortly thereafter they found two very dejected looking boys waiting for them, one with a bloody mouth and his two bottom front teeth in his hand, not his mouth.
They took me to the dispensary where there was a dentist on call, and they actually wired the teeth back in. They didn't have the correct wire, and my mouth was small (in spite of what others said!)so they just hoped for the best.
What made the day so terrible was that:
1 We were having steak for dinner (which I loved) and there was no way I could eat a bite of it.
2 We were having corn on the cob which I also loved, in in Germany it was as scarce as rocking horse shit. No go there either.
3 Worst of all, my brand new trumpet came and I couldn't even try to play it for two weeks.
All those blows at the same time!
I went to bed, pulled a sheet over my head and just stared at the wall. I think it stared back and laughed at me.
I've been wounded, suffered indignity and degradation, been hit by a car in my elder years, but very little came close to the disappointments of that day. Only when they came and told us our son was wounded.
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