There seems to have been a party in my mouth and I have not been invited.
After the brutal extraction of my wisdom tooth, things went from bad to worse. As I lay in bed feeling sorry for myself, I began to regret my decision to whip the bugger out. Initially, my Hamster face amused me and I quite liked my new spontaneous diet. However, this soon changed…. Rapidly.
Severe pain, tears, desperate cheek holding, tears, throbbing, very strong pain killers. Tears. DRY SOCKET. Tears. Tears. Tears. Apparently, only 1-3% of wisdom tooth extractions end in this horrendous fate. Of course, this was bound to happen to me. Excellent. Essentially, Dry Socket, (as well as sounding extremely unarousing) means that my poor, precious vulnerable nerves in my jaw bone were raw and open, waggling in the wind.
Typical. I found myself back in the emergency ‘Driving Seat’, crying uncontrollably whilst the dentist flushed and packed my ‘dry socket’. Nice.
As soon as that was over, B-Day loomed. It was time for my bottom brace. I got it yesterday. I feel like I want to rip my teeth out just to relieve the discomfort. The discomfort is severe. I had seemed to repressed the top brace pain. This is a horrible, nasty, unwelcome reminder. So tight and constant, it feels like it’s taken the sparkle out of my eye and I feel utterly deflated.
I know it will improve and I will soon get used to it, but at the moment Nelly the Elephant has packed her bags and SAT HER FAT ASS DOWN VERY HARD ON MY BOTTOM JAW.