I AM A GIRL. I AM 22. I HAVE A BRACE. LAUGH WITH ME AS I REGALE EMBRACING ANECDOTES ABOUT THE HIGHS AND LOWS OF HAVING A TIN GRIN AT SUCH A DELICATE AGE.

Friday, 30 March 2012

One thing after another

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.

Friday, 2 March 2012

WIS-DOOM


If anybody tells you that wisdom tooth extraction is painless/easy/a piece of cake. They’re lying to you. Lying through their (probably, perfectly formed) gritted teeth. Either that or i am a big baby. 


Ok, it is a know fact that I am a hypochondriac and once twisted my own half fractured little toe so that I would be the proud owner of crutches. (I didn’t get crutches). Still, it is a very unpleasant experience and one i should feel i should warn you of.



After dodging the dentist for many years, it appears there has been a lot going on in my mouth for many years without me noticing. The idiot that I am. After confronting the obvious, I thought it was sensible to get a thorough Mouth MOT.



It turns out my lower left wisdom tooth was impacted and was a “timebomb of pain”. FANTASTIC. Anything else? (probably). The dental nurse booked me in for a surgical removal. The removal was yesterday. I sit here, slumped, resembling a frowning lopsided hamster. Such an attractive 23 year old, in her prime, on a Friday night.



I opted for sedation. It took the consultant 4 attempts to get the cannula into my “wriggling” veins. Four attempts is actually quite a lot. Actually quite painful. One wisdom tooth out, three shiny colourful bruises in. 



By this time I was shaking quite a lot and the nurse thought it was necessary to bring in a huge blanket and tuck me in. Like a big giant bruised shaking hamster baby. 



The consultant squeezed the sedative juice into my vein and I felt very odd indeed. I tried to pretend I was fine. I clearly wasn’t. They made some remark about my odd socks (I was in a rush that morning), I remember trying to crack some hilarious joke but had to give up half way through because I was laughing too much. A new low?



They got to work. What happened is all a bit of a blur but if i lie silently then the cracking of bone and the faint drilling noise resonates in my head. I’m joking. Kind of.








It was done, I was untucked and guided to a room to wait for my Mother. There was an overweight lady in the ‘sedation recovery room’ with me. “whatcha in fer?” she asked. “ummm, one wisdom extraction” I replied, tentatively. “one? Thats nuffin. Try three!!!”. I felt like a cheat. She was clearly milking the whole thing and had a lot of bloody saliva bubbling out of her mouth. Normally, this would have been surreal enough but being sedated myself made it utterly bizarre.


I decided to escape and go to the loo. Except, I wasn’t allowed to go ‘unescorted’ so, before I knew it, I was trying to wee in front of a very awkward nurse. A new low. Naturally, I had stage fright and being sedated made everything seem like it took an hour instead of a minute. Except, i think it did actually take an hour. JESUS CHRIST.



Anyway, since this very traumatic ordeal I have been mostly feeling hugely sorry for myself. Mother took the nurses’ advice way too literally and hasn’t left me unattended for 24 hours. Very frustrating. I have eaten my way through lots of pain killers and antibiotics (to prevent infection). Without wanting to, my tongue finds itself exploring the new hole in my mouth. Guilty painful pleasure. The highlight of the past 29 hours is eating some tepid porridge.



So, i am 25% less wise and 100% more hamster like. Please, if you are getting a similar procedure... prepare yourself. Do not go to the loo in the hospital after the procedure and get your Mum to buy some porridge oats. You’re welcome!