I would be lying to you if I told you I wasn’t worked up or nervous about having my wisdom teeth removed. Three years ago when I went in for the surgical consult, my dentist had already told me he had some concerns with where my roots lined up with the major nerve that runs through the jaw. The surgeon, after looking at my x-rays and CT scan, stood for a long time in silence before saying, “Well, it will be tricky. But I think we can do it.” The biggest risk was paralyzation of my mouth. For a gal who loves to gab – and eat – this was a big concern.
I ended up getting pregnant with Harlynn and spent the next two years being pregnant or nursing, so I didn’t go back. Until today. The 48 hours immediately before having my teeth removed, my mouth was in so much pain. Obviously it was time to get them out, and I actually looked forward to the procedure with relief in mind.
This year my teeth have been giving me several problems and causing my mouth to be in a lot of pain. I had to get them out. There was no way around it. The day after I scheduled my appointment, there was an article in our paper about a young woman who died during her wisdom teeth extraction. Not only was I afraid my jaw would be paralyzed, but now a “routine” procedure had taken the life of a sweet young woman from a nearby town.
The night before my appointment, I was terrified. I cried. I wasn’t afraid of dying – death does not scare me. Since losing Harlynn, I have a different perspective on death and dying. But I was afraid if something happened, my kids wouldn’t know how much I loved them, and Brent would be a single parent trying to reason with them on why Mommy was in heaven. That bothered me. But having my jaw paralyzed – this was a really big fear, especially after the comments of my dentist and the surgeon. Moments before the happy gas, the surgeon told me again my nerve was his primary concern, and he was going to do everything he could to not leave me paralyzed, but “it is definitely a risk.”
I requested Nitris for the IV insertion. I’ve birthed three babies – I felt I deserved a happy IV. It was a great choice. Later, I tried to convince Brent we needed to buy Nitris for use at home. He wasn’t on board. Whatever.
In the recovery room, I saw the O2 sensor on my finger and started to panic – I knew it was going to turn me into a robot. I didn’t want to be a robot. I talked about it with my husband. Then he started recording. This 11-minute recovery video is the most painfully entertaining thing I’ve had to watch. It’s funny, but it isn’t, but it is. Because it’s me.
From asking how to work a Kleenex, to being terrified of not being able to whistle, turn into a robot, and then lamenting for a cheeseburger – I just can’t even say much more about it. Without further ado – here you go. The most incriminating vlog I’ll ever post.