Which partly explains why the consultation to get my wisdom teeth out happened when I first moved here in August (yes, seven months ago). And why my teeth remained firmly planted in my mouth until I scheduled the appointment to get them removed for last Friday morning. I had, finally, had it with them.
I was completely terrified. There were many times last week I thought about calling to cancel. I probably would have if my mom hadn't already bought plane tickets to be here to help Brian take care of me! I even half-hoped my boss would deny my request for time off work. But, sadly, all went according to plan and Friday morning found me in the waiting room of the oral surgeon's office. I left Brian and my mom when they called my name, and walked into the back room.
When I finally got into the chair, the poor anesthesiologist left for probably half a second and came back to me crying. Everyone had failed to mention that there would be an IV involved! Ugh. Cue me freaking out.
Without going into any of the icky details, let's just say that I survived with little to no memory of the actual surgery. They sent me home with my mouth stuffed full of gauze (ew, the absolute worst part) and lots of pain medicine. I spent the rest of the weekend on the couch with frozen peas on my face.
|I look pretty, right?|
P.S. A very big thank you to my mom and Brian for taking care of me, cooking, cleaning, and letting me nap every couple of hours all weekend. It was very much appreciated.