Wisdom Teeth

It has been over a week since my last blog. The reason? Wisdom tooth extraction. For those of you considering this rite of passage...I would recommend a detour. I have brought 2 children into this world via c-section surgery and that recovery seems to pale in comparison to the joy of tooth extraction recovery.

I was so nervous the day I went in. I just love that butterfly feeling in the pit of my stomach. Who ever thought to term it "butterflies" because it really feels more like daggers shifting around in your belly. I had recruited a friend to drive me so that my husband could be with the kids. My children both cried when I told them what I was doing that day. There is nothing like reassuring your children that you will be fine when you don't really even know if that is true! So, my friend got me to the oral surgeon's office just in time. I had to view a webcast of what to expect during the surgery the day before. Now after watching this, I should have known what I was in for. I think I was fooled by the calm, serene nature of the narrator's voice. She went over what to do before, during and after surgery. I found it humorous that it was optional whether or not to hear about the possible side effects of the surgery. The narrator would nonchalantly say, "Would you like to hear more about this? If not, press continue." I took that as, "This side effect is highly unlikely. Don't be a hypochondriac, simply continue on." Anyway, after the webcast I had a false sense of security even though I had "butterflies."

After signing in and sitting down, my friend just stared at me. It was like she knew what was to come and yet she couldn't bring herself to tell me. "You'll be fine," she said. I picked up a magazine and tried to read. I read the same sentence about 12 times about some great fly fishing spot. Why is it that dentist and doctor's offices subscribe to the top 10 obscure magazines on the market. Fly fishing, Golf Digest(which really isn't that obscure, but what housewife of preschoolers wants to read about the guy who designed Augusta golf course??), Canine Monthly and The Collector's Companion. I am not sure about how magazines like that are suppose to be entertaining or even relaxing while you wait for Dr. so and so. After waiting for a few minutes I was called up to the reception desk. "We will need to collect your copay now." I often wonder why I can't wait until after the service rendered to decide if it was worth my copay or not. Wouldn't that be great if we could say, "Well, I really don't feel like I got my money's worth. Instead of paying you $1500 to take out 4 teeth, I think that I would like you to pay me for my time in your office." After all, if it wasn't for me, my dentist wouldn't have a job. I forked over the cash, yeah right. I mean, I handed over the Visa, signed and sat down again. No turning back now.

The nurse came out and gave my friend a pamphlet of "post-surgical care" and a little bag with gauze and a new toothbrush in it. She took me back into a room with 1 chair and a lot of diagnostic equipment. I think I even saw a defibrillator. Why in the world would they need that? I put my purse on the window sill and took off my glasses. I felt my way to the seat and was told to "make myself comfortable." Are you joking me? I had no sooner sat down when the nurse had an oxygen tube put under my nose. Wait a minute. I haven't even had a chance to make myself comfortable. Maybe the oxygen is part of that idea. After all, I was feeling short of breath. The nurse proceeded to put metal clips on my wrists. She claimed they were to monitor my heart but I really think she was strapping me to the chair so I wasn't tempted to give the surgeon a swift uppercut in the middle of surgery. The surgeon came in and asked, "How are you today?" How am I suppose to answer that? "I am fantastic, sir. I am so blessed to be tied in a chair with extra oxygen blowing up my nose." I simply mumbled a "fine" and tried to continue "making myself comfortable." Before I knew it, the surgeon said you'll feel a little pinch as he inserted a needle into my vein. No time to talk really. I tried to tell him that I was concerned about my post-operative ability to chew as my wisdom teeth were the only teeth in my mouth that met top and bottom. (Yes, my bite is quite obscure. I have baffled dentists in 4 different states and Canada). Anyway, he said "you'll be fine" as he continued administering an anti-inflammatory to prevent "chipmunk cheeks." He then said, "this next medicine will relax you. Just close your eyes. It will take about 4 or 5 minutes to work."

Guess what? After 4 to 5 minutes and 5 shots of novocaine later, I wasn't quite feeling that relaxed. I was expecting to be completely out for the surgery. The surgeon opened my mouth and I wondered if he knew that I was still awake. I tried to shift in my chair and move my feet so he knew that I didn't quite make it to la la land. Despite my efforts he said to me, "You're going to feel a little bit of pressure." Wait a minute. I paid for the "feel absolutely nothing" extraction. Why even give me a sedative if I am still going to feel "pressure" as he called it. The nurse then proceeded to put one hand on my forehead and one on my chin. I felt the surgeon move from one tooth to the next all while having my head contorted into positions I thought only chiropractors knew.

Before I knew it the surgeon stood up and said, "okay, that's it." He left and the nurse told me to follow her. Now, I wasn't sure if they remembered that not only did I just receive sedatives and extra oxygen, but I wear glasses! I couldn't see anything. I politely asked the nurse for my glasses and she gave them to me and then said, "Don't forget your purse." Oh, of course. I was thinking about my personal belonging right now. Good grief. I made it to the recovery couch. The nurse got my friend who came in and sat next to me. She didn't say anything she just patted my leg. I told the nurse that I felt like I was going to vomit. She told me to lay down and then gave me some puffs of oxygen. Okay, that felt better. I tried to sit up. The nurse gave me some grape juice. I had to remove the pack of gauze and try to focus on the taste of the juice and less on the taste of blood. She asked me how I was feeling. I told her, "better." She responded, "well, you look really pale. You better lay down again." The surgeon reappeared and asked me how I was feeling. As he did he put the oxygen mask over my face and gave me some squirts. Obviously he knew I wasn't feeling fantastic.

After about 10 minutes on the recovery couch I decided to try to get home. Half way down the stairs I had to sit because I was going to vomit. I was given a barf bag "just in case" before I left. My friend hurried to her car and reclined the seat. I made it in the car and closed my eyes. She got me home and my husband greeted me in the driveway. He helped me to bed and then went to pick up my prescriptions - pain killer and antibiotics. I was told to take the pain medicine before the numbness wore off. I was also told to eat something. My husband fed me some soup and I took some pain medicine. Guess how long that stayed down? The next 8 hours were filled with me literally crawling from my bed to the toilet. I don't remember this being mentioned in the webcast I viewed. "You must eat" I was told. Well, I would really like to, but nothing wants to stay down!!

Ugh. Needless to say, I was in bed all week. The vomiting subsided, the bleeding slowed down and pachyderm breath developed. I can't use mouthwash for a week and brushing my teeth with the delicate toothbrush is more like using my finger to spread toothpaste on my teeth. Now that food stays down, I have put my food processor to good use. I have 4 holes in my mouth that want to collect food. Gross. I have to rinse with salt water several times a day to clean out the pockets. Gross. The taste in my mouth is, well, gross. I can't chew solid food because my jaw is sore and my teeth don't meet. I have cried many tears and told my husband that I am going to die of starvation because I can't eat anything. I might be blending everything for the rest of my life.

But you know what? God has been speaking to my heart. It is easy to read through a scripture like Romans 5:3 and say no problem. Romans 5:3 in the Amplified Bible says, "Moreover[let us also be full of joy now!] Let us exult and triumph in our troubles and rejoice in our sufferings knowing that pressure and affliction and hardship produce patient and unswerving endurance." It goes on to say, " And endurance (fortitude) develops maturity of character (approved faith and tried integrity). And character [of this sort] produces [the habit of] joyful and confident hope of eternal salvation. Such hope never disappoints or deludes or shames us, for God's love has been poured out in our hearts through the Holy Spirit Who has been given to us." Yes! I am in the middle of a big trial. I can rejoice because the God of hope is right by my side. Did this extraction catch Him off guard? Is He baffled by my teeth? No and NO! He is the very God who created me. He knit me together in my mother's womb and He is excited to reveal His glory THROUGH MY CIRCUMSTANCES. Bring it on! Of course, I want immediate results from my prayers. But I can't help but feel that God has me right where He wants me. He wants me to trust Him with the process. Will I continue to believe that He is able through all of the pain and picking food from my sockets?? My circumstances have drawn me to God. He alone can work in them. He is the answer. He is my help. Most importantly, He is my hope. He is the reason I get out of bed with with bad breath. He knows and He can do more than I can ask for, if I will trust Him. Sometimes it is easier than others to keep this perspective, but the dividends of faith in action are staggering. God loves to reveal His power through willing vessels. Show your power through me, Lord. Thank you that you are the God of hope. Oh, yeah. Bless that surgeon that put me in this place of having to depend on you too.