I sit here writing this with four holes in my mouth, two sutures and the rancid taste of a penicillin pill on my tongue. It started innocently enough but quickly fell to the ground (or at least I did, literally).
On Tuesday, I went for my consultation. I got to meet some very nice people including my oral surgeon, Dr. Holton whom I heartily recommend to those looking for some fun.
On Friday morning, I took the tiny Valium pill they had given me during my consultation and also managed to swallow two penicillin. If you have never had penicillin, let me advise you to avoid it. The pills begin to dissolve instantly when they touch your mouth and the white paste they leave behind leaves much to be desired. I couldn’t wash it down properly, of course, because I was forbidden to eat or drink except the smallest possible amount of water to get those pills down (and don’t think I didn’t drink every drop in that Dixie Cup).
I then took a shower and by the time I got out of it, I was already feeling tipsy. I almost fell over when I bent down to pick up my shoes. My mom drove me to the doctor’s office and I sat on a couch in the waiting room. I picked up a Reader’s Digest and tried to read it but it felt so heavy. I dropped it on the floor when I tried to put it on the table beside me.
A few moments later, a lady opened a door and told me to follow her. By this point, I was in a fairly euphoric state and, quite frankly, was rather enjoying myself. I sat in a thick chair and looked around like I was high.
A nurse put these weird metal clamps on my wrists, stuck and IV in my arm and put one of those things around my upper arm that occasionally inflates to check my blood pressure, etc.
She left and some guy came in introducing himself as my anesthesiologist. He then began injecting some medicine into my IV. I was thinking to myself that he was putting quite a lot in there and I was about to ask him what it was, specifically but about five seconds after the first injection, I was sitting in the car on my way home. Wow, the drugs work quick!
Though I drifted in and out of consciousness, I pieced together most of the events from my mom’s story. I was apparently wheelchaired out a back door with a very drugged out look on my face. I have no idea how I actually got in the car but my first memory in it was trying to turn the page of a magazine only to realize that there was no magazine. My mouth stuffed with gauze, I also tried to tell her that I wished I had been able to thank the doctor and I held out my hand to show my end of a handshake. It took several tries before she understood.
Among my more bizarre discussions, of which I have absolutely no memory, I asked her if she could see the dog in the road. She told me no and I again asked her, “Don’t you see a black lab?” At her second “No” I began to laugh hysterically. I also asked her several times “Did I babble?” Weird.
The real fun started when I got home. I sat down in the chair in the living room and was turning on the TV when she left the room to get something. When she returned, I was asleep and only the TV was on but not the satellite.
I eventually got up to use the bathroom and that is where my most painful injury occurred. When I walked in it, I habitually locked the door but she told me not to so I unlocked it. I was standing in front of the toilet when I began to feel woozy so I leaned my head on the cabinet above it. I opened my eyes to discover a white blur in front of me. When I could focus, I realized I was lying on my side between the toilet and the wall (a tight fit in a fairly dirty spot). My mom was at my feet asking me if I was alright. Apparently, I passed out and hit my head on the toilet. She heard a thud, called my name and rushed in there when I didn’t respond to find me lying unconscious on the floor. How traumatic for her!
I now have a scratch between my eyebrows that makes me look like I have some freaky unibrow and it hurts far more than the giant craters in my jaw. Whenever I make any highly expressive face, I feel immediate pain. It sucks and I want to be able to massage my forehead.
I have 16 hydrocodone pills left but she won’t let me take any of them anymore. I’m stuck with off-brand Advil to ease my admittedly grandiose pain.