Normally, I'd spare everyone a blow by blow, and lucky for you, this is normally, and I'm wiped out after last night, in which I got almost no sleep, adn what little sleep I got consisteed of voyeurism in a certain club in Pittsburg, and why, WHY does this only happen when I'm really drugged?
Man, that was good for me.
Both surgeon and assistant were calm and friendly and jokey, adn didn't seem at all perturbed that one, I had my MP3 player on loud, and two, every time they touched me, I was this close to levitating right off the chair. I kept my head still and didn't grovel, and that took a LOT of effort to accomplish.
There's just something--creepy about operations going on in your mouth.
I have had--a variety of strange, embarassing, intimate, and uncomfortable medical-type examinations. Some have required me to assume positions better suited to the Kama Sutra and tend to involve way too much light. And it's not going to be soon I'll forget the *damned* perky resident who delivered my son and gave me a running monologue on *every damn thing* he was doing to me, because honestly, I've blocked a lot of that out to keep my sanity intact.
I am also bitter against him because of that entire mirror sitch, but I digress.
Mouths are different. They are taste/touch, double sense areas. They're way too close to all the other major senses. It's disturbing. And let's face it, that needle is from hell. When Mr Dentist whipped it out and proceeded to get down to business, he's lucky I was still on that chair.
Anyway, he did the numbing in three separate timeframes, with my history of jaw infections, since he was of the opinion the entire matter might not turn out so well should I actually FEEL the teeth being removed from their natural habitat. That this might lead to damage. Of more than just me. He was right. First round, about six shots, then after some work, second round, four shots, then more work, then third round, three shots or so. I still have no feeling in half my lower lip straight back to below my ear and up to my cheekbone. Left side. I don't consider this a bad thing.
But I don't think I untensed once during the entire procedure, and I tried. I have low blood pressure usually--apparently, I jogged myself right into the normal range halfway through, thus proving I'm actually not an animate corpse. A the end, sheer relief made me plumment back down, and I suppose I'm lucky they didn't hold a mirror to my mouth to make sure I was still breathing.
I do NOT want to go through that again. Fancy that I'll be back on the fourteenth.
Stuffed with gauze, I look like--I have no idea what I look like. I got one glimpse at teh mirror and my vanity was so traumatized I had to swear never to look again. There's ickyiness and blood and the perky nurse told me not to worry if there was blood on my pillow in the morning, and I considered the fact that I only use black sheets in relief.
I mean, who really wakes up and thinks reasonably if they see BLOOD on their pillow?
My jaw is that soft discomfort that precludes serious soreness, and my back hurts from all the time I spent in that chair unable to relax, and I am whiney and I'm also okay with this, because my tongue is coming un-numb finally and i can taste things again. This is a double edged sword, since right now the primary tastes in my mouth aren't exactly ones I seek out.
I want a popsicle.