Thoroughly Traumatized

I wouldn't call myself a wimp by any means - I tough out my menstrual cramps sans pain medication, I can stand on six inch heels for eight hour shifts at work, and I've even got a couple tattoos.  So when my dentist told me all four of my wisdom teeth needed to come out, I opted for laughing gas only, and to get them all removed at the same time.  BAD idea. 1pm - Getting nervous about my surgery in an hour.  Decide to eat a crapload of Father's Day leftovers to make me feel better.  Chain smoke cigarettes because I know I won't be able to smoke after.  Cry in the parking lot of the dentist.

2pm - Greet my super friendly dentist.  I love her.  Sit down and start watching the Sopranos.  Get my mouth numbed, supposedly the worst part.  Not true - the numbing was the easiest part for me.

2:15pm - Dentist starts yanking on my tooth.  My heart is beating so fast I think I am going to have a heart attack.

2:30pm - Dentist is still yanking on the same tooth.  And commenting on how stubborn my teeth are.  And stands up and removes her jacket because I am 'giving her a work out'.  I start to cry.

Barely swollen,  but clearly disturbed. Forehead acne thanks to anxiety, swollen eyes thanks to tears, and gross looking lips thanks to lots of bloody drool.

2:45pm - After letting me calm down a bit and getting me high on laughing gas, she yanks on my tooth some more.  I close my eyes and don't really care anymore.  All I can think about is how lovely the world is.  Laughing gas is fun.

3pm - FIRST tooth is finally out.  An hour later.  I ask to see my tooth - it is huge and has three roots.  I think about leaving the room but she starts yanking on the second tooth too quickly.  I start breathing much deeper through my nose.

4pm - All four are out (the bottom two were much easier) and I start crying.  Again.  I have the worst headache I've ever had.  I can't feel my mouth but I know blood is coming out of it, and I can barely talk.  The dental assistants bring in my boyfriend, who looks petrified at the sight of my drooly lips and tear-stained eyes.  I sign the credit card receipt:  $123 after insurance to get abused.  Why did I spend my hard earned money on this again??

I cry off and on for two more hours (mainly because I'm hungry) and finally fall asleep.

And one day later, I'm just bored, sore, tired, and loopy from pain meds.  And still hungry - milkshakes, apple sauce, and mashed potatoes get old quick and barely fill me up.  Oh and lets not forget how traumatic waking up with a pool of blood on your arm is.

Moral of the story - go for the I.V.  Don't be a dummy like me and think you can handle it.  No one likes making a fool of themselves, and I sure did fun.