Losing Wisdom

Don't anyone worry; Matt didn't forget the requisite joke about how I lost all of my wisdom teeth but he still has two. That, I responded, is why he is so good at physics and I am perfectly happy never having taken it.

We arrived at the oral surgeon's clinic shortly before 8 yesterday morning, and poor Little Bear's cries of Mama, Mama! began as soon as I went up to the counter to check in and fill out last-minute paperwork. We'd opted to have him stay in the waiting room with Matt instead of asking someone else to watch him so that we could go straight home after the surgery, and I packed my purse with toys, books, crackers and a cup to keep him distracted. A nurse came out and turned on Tom and Jerry cartoons for him, Matt said, and his first encounter with cartoons seems to have kept him pretty happy! 

He said his first sentence while I was back in surgery, and it made Matt feel so badly for him: "I want Mama!" Aww...

I was taken back to a surgery room and hooked up to five different monitors; I couldn't decide whether it was supposed to scare me with the seriousness of surgery, or comfort me that they took safety so seriously! After the nurse got the IV into my arm (no, I didn't look; what, did you think I was brave or something?) she started a drip of 0.9% saline solution and called in the anesthesiologist. He greeted me and asked if I had any questions, then told me that he was going to start the first medication, asking the nurses for "the orangey-colored one." They laughed, he told me that it would start to take effect in about 30 seconds, and that's the last thing I remember until the nurse was talking to me and trying to get me to wake up.

Matt says they told him that I went out more quickly than they expected, and took longer to wake up; I did answer honestly about my height and weight, galling as that was, so maybe I'm just more sensitive? I'd much rather go to sleep earlier than too late, though! Matt and Little Bear joined me in the room then, or maybe they were there as I woke up? It's fuzzy. I know that the nurse kept telling me that I had to keep my eyes open, and all I wanted to do was go to sleep... Matt tells me that Little Bear kept trying to grab my IV, but I don't even remember it still being in or when they took it out. I do remember the nurse bringing in a wheelchair to take me out to the car once everyone was satisfied that I wasn't going to go unconscious again.

I forced myself to eat a little bit of yogurt and a finely-diced slice of peach, drink some water, and take ibuprofen, then lay down with Little Bear on the crib mattress that Matt dragged out to the living room for us and we both took a good nap. I felt a million times more alert after, but I still felt tired and achey and puffy, and I know that will last several more days. Semiliquid foods are my friends right now: my amazing, wonderful husband made me tapioca pudding for dinner, even though he can't stand the stuff, after the pasta he'd made at the nurse's suggestion wound up being too painful for me to eat! Yogurt and ice cream have worked well too, and if we (or he, if I look like a chipmunk) go to town this afternoon, I may ask for applesauce. I made stewed rhubarb ahead of time, but I'm kind of afraid it will be too acidic... Anyone have any experience with that?

Yes, I should be appalled that I only ate sweetened dairy products yesterday, but somehow it just doesn't seem worth the effort. We'll blame the Vicodin. Vicodin is such a convenient scapegoat... it took the fall for me on several loopy conversations last night, like when we were wondering aloud what horrendous fashion trends we might be subjected to when Little Bear is 16, and solemnly warning the kid that if he shaves his head and gets fiberoptic hair implanted, the government will be able to control his hair color without his consent... Honestly, what if they had the ability to change the hair color of a suspected criminal red and turn everyone else's hair blue? That police chase wouldn't last long. And then hackers would be able to set their enemies up for arrest really easily!

Yep, blame the Vicodin. And my new lack of wisdom. I'm going to take a nap.