Now that the Bachelor is officially over and Sean is official a "star" on Dancing with the Stars I can finally talk about something else.
I say we start this new chapter off right and I talk about something very important: myself. What is more important to one's self than their teeth/dental hygiene?
Not much. I daresay.
Like most people, I hate the dentist (you can read a whole blog about it!). Also, like most people, I'm obsessed with teeth. How straight they are, how white they are, making sure they smell nice, etc. etc.
So when someone tells me I have a mouth deformity (aka Wisdom Teeth), I don't take the news lightly.
Seriously, I've been lamenting over this for months. My dentist has been telling me I need to get them removed for almost two years. I choose to ignore her, obviously. My excuse? That wisdom teeth are nothing but a fable...a legend...something that dentists make up in order to get your money. Even as they shoved the creepy x-ray of my mouth in my face (which looks like a creature frmo Alien) with the impacted freak-teeth, I refuse to abide by the common rules.
Low and behold. I finally caved.
My dentist told me that if I don't get my wisdom teeth out that they would have to amputate my mouth off. So that was alarming. (not really)
The real fear I had was that once my teeth were gone, I would lose any wisdom I may have acquired in these past 21 years of life. Then I googled all the brilliant women that no longer have their wisdom teeth...and I felt a whole lot better!
So we schedule the appointment, my mother and I, for a beautiful Friday morning in March (aka last Friday). I am nervous as a common mouse ready to be tested on because I've never, in my 21 years of intelligent life, had any sort of medical surgery.
My biggest fears (in order of most fear to least) going into a surgery that requires anesthesia:
1- Death
2- Farting without knowing
3- Total mouth paralyzation
4- Peeing my pants
5- Telling my much older doctor that I think he is very attractive for an older man
6- Drooling on my shirt
7- Going 6 hours without eating
8- Waking up in the middle of surgery
So anyways.
They tell me I can't have any alcohol for 24 hours before the surgery which is just a huge problem for me because what else do they expect me to do on a Thursday? Don't they know that Thrusday is trivia night at Applebee's and I like to spend way too much money on vodka flavored juice and get half off apps?
The struggle.
They also tell me I cannot eat or drink anything 6 hours before my surgery. This doesn't seem like it will be a problem because my appointment was scheduled for 10:20 am. To me, this is early. I have no problem waking up at 9:45 and not eating/drinking. It's the whole waiting for an hour to actually get in the surgery that became problematic. Not to mention, the waiting room window looks out at a Wendy's. Their nuggets literally beckon! Of all places that I have to stare at...a Wendy's? The torture. I mean, it was like a mirage in the desert, let me tell you.
The next set of instructions is to not wear any lip gloss (which was hard because I love getting dolled up for my dentist appointments regularly), not wear any nail polish, and wear a short sleeved shirt. I decided upon wearing leggings as pants and a t-shirt...and I did NOT wear seamless underwear, and they WERE full butt, if you were wondering. And guess what? I liked it. Not a fuck was given.
So anyways. I'm all set to go with my completely empty stomach, clean liver, and leggings. They sit me in the surgery room and take my blood pressure which scares me in itself. Mostly, I am afraid of getting my BP taken because I honestly have no clue what a healthy BP rate is. I know that's sad, but whatever...I'm not a med student.
Then the nurse asks me my weight and height, just making it weird because I don't believe in weighing myself. I make a joke, "However much a baby elephant weighs!" but she doesn't seem to find my funny. Little does she know that inside, I am having a complete breakdown. My parents are in the waiting room and I'm all alone about to get my gums ripped open with a bunch of strangers! All I wanted was mommy, daddy, a pillow, and some chicken nuggets.
Finally, after what seems like hours of waiting, my doctor finally comes in, acting all happy because he's a doctor that he makes 2,000 bucks every time he does one of these things (which is about 20 times a day..you do the math). I'd be one Happy-Henry myself! So my doctor is happy to see me. Meanwhile, I'm about ready to just pass out because the BP thing is still on my arm and I'm feeling light headed.
The doctor starts looking for a vein to put the needle for the anesthesia in and I obviously look away because needles freak me out, much like they freak 98% of people out, I'm sure. Besides heroin addicts and all that.
Now, at this point I fall into a deep, sleeping beauty like sleep in which I remember absolutely nothing. Actually, if you think about it, anesthesia is a great, great thing. I wish that I could have anesthesia for all sorts of things like:
1- Waiting at the DMV
2- Waiting to get an oil change
3- In any sort of waiting room, period.
4- Every time I am at the dentist
5- Economics class
6- Trying to sleep at night with my thunderous neighbors above me
7- Waiting for my friends to get done drinking as I sit, bored as the DD
8- Jury duty (not really..that would be wrong..)
I think anesthesia is a beautiful tool that should be used more often in society.
I endorse.
Back to the teeth...
So, the next thing I know I'm being woken up and led to a 'recovery room' in which I sit next to two women who look even more cracked out than I think I am. All I seem to capable of thinking of is a Frostry from that Wendy's across the street and the disgusting gauze that is stuffed into my mouth.
The lady next to me starts talking, but I can't understand her. I assume it's about the comfort of the chairs we were sitting in because those chairs were awfully comfy. I see my doctor walk by and immediately sit up. I don't know why, maybe it's because I think he's kind of hot for an old guy.
Because, clearly, the best time to pick up attractive, older doctors is when you're stoned, wearing seamed underwear with leggings, and have bloody gauze hanging out of your mouth.
He pats me on the head and asks how I'm doing and I suddenly feel like Cindy Lou-Hoo.
I don't remember what I said but I remember giving him a 'thumbs up'. Unforuntely, for me, this is my idea of flirting regularly so this action cannot be blamed on my buzzed out state.
To make matters worse, he was drinking a Mountain Dew and I do remember what I said then...and so eloquently.. "I like Mountain Dew."
"You should get one!" he tells me.
"I want a Frosty," I reply.
Yeah, so basically this must have been an indicator that I was "good to go" so they released me to mother, who led me to an elevator full of people that I just sort of smiled at with my disgusting, torn apart, no longer wise mouth.
I pray to God there was no one I know on that elevator...and if there was...and if you're reading this blog...sorry.
The rest of my weekend consisted mostly of me demanding more Frosties from Wendy's, popping Vicodin like it was totally normal, and watching a whole lot of 'Veronica Mars'.
Was it terrible?
Not really.
Sure, my mouth feels absolutely awful and my cheeks look about three times their normal size...but I must say, it is quite the weight lifted off of my shoulders.
I am worried, however, that I have lost some of my wisdom. I seem to be unable to speak correct words the past few days. Just today I asked my roommate what she was learning about in her book. She tells me, "Universal and accessible design" and I reply, "You lost me at universable."
Also, I no longer know what the word 'prohibit' means.
And, I knocked over a whole aisle of soup at Wal-Mart today.
Not sure if this has anything to do with my new lack of wisdom (teeth) or the newfound appreciation I have for Vicodin.
All I know is this whole "soft food" thing is getting really old, really fast.
For those of you who are getting your wisdom teeth out, I recommend eating so much hard and spciy food the day before...crackers, chips, chicken fingers, burgers, salsa, tacos, cereal...eat it all. Because as much as people say how awesome it is to eat ice cream and milkshakes...it's really not that great after about 2 days. Now I know why babies cry so much...they have to eat that mushy food.
And you know, they also poop their pants a lot, so I'm sure that gets uncomfortable...
Anyways.
Sorry this blogpost was pretty egomaniacal, but I had to share my experience.
Have a lovely week.
Until next time,
Kaitie
xo
p.s. Hungry? Need a Diet Tool? This.
You're welcome!
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