Hello! How’s things? I’ve been asleep for two days. Except for the brief period of time I was conscious at the most stylish
dental office oral surgeon’s office facial enhancement specialist’s office before I got my IV in order to have one of my wisdom teeth yanked.
I even took a nap before I went to my appointment. I’m that run down that I needed a nap even when I knew I was going to get to sleep for three days straight.
We got hopelessly lost on our way to the doctor’s, so I rushed in apologizing for being late. The receptionist introduced herself by name and took my coat. Then I sat down on a super modern, electric blue couch and looked around at the subtle, yet lovely decor.
Almost immediately I was ushered into a consultation room outfitted with blue and red plastic modular chairs.
It’s possible I was in an iPod commercial.
The doctor tried to upsell me by offering to take out my other wisdom teeth too. Don’t you worry, I didn’t fall victim to scare tactics like “long-term health” and “these teeth will eventually cause you problems.” They were getting exactly one tooth from me.
Then I laid down in their chair, pointed them to the vein they were going to want to use, and wondered how long it would take the sedation to take effect. And then the doctor said, “It went fine,” and they led me to the recovery room.
Alex and Quinn came to pick me up. Quinn was eating a chocolate doughnut, which was apparently a chaser to the brownie Alex had given him first. “You have red teeth,” he told me.
Before I left, the nurse gave me a Moo card with the time of my follow up appointment written on it, as well as a CD called “Scintillating Your Senses,” plus a post card telling me about the doctor’s podcast.
I think this office may have been the hippest place I’ve ever been. Which is a little sad.
The other thing they tried to give me when I left was someone else’s coat. It took the receptionist three times to come up with my coat. In retrospect, I should have taken the first coat she offered because it was much nicer than mine.
I’ve been at home in my bed since then. Alex has been bringing me soup and ice cream and stuff when I use the intercom feature on our phone to call down to him. He’s been a trooper, if not suitably enthusiastic when I call him to bring me things.
He was kind enough to hover outside the bathroom door and bring me water the first time I threw up. After the second time I threw up, I figured out that my stomach does not care for a penicillin and Vicodin combo on an empty stomach. I’m not making that mistake again. It’s a waste of perfectly good Vicodin, which I like because it makes my legs feel content.
Seriously, that’s the best way I can describe it.
I’ve been kept company by my awesome cat Izzy.
She has remained plastered to my body for the past 30 or so hours. I like her. She’s licking my soup bowl clean right now. Which is better than yesterday, when the dog woke me up by slurping out of my uneaten bowl of soup. Jerk.
I’m feeling good, and staring at my computer screen isn’t making me nauseous anymore, so I hope that means I’ll feel better and be up and out of bed by tomorrow. (Don’t tell Alex though, or he might stop answering the phone.)