I decided it would be funny to try and write a blog after my visit to the oral surgeon this morning to have all my wisdom teeth ripped out, you know, because all the fancy drugs I got would made me loopy. Sadly, by the time I got home all those mind-altering drugs had worn off and now I am just a cranky, sore chipmunk-face. Dammit, I'll write something anyways.
I would like to say that I probably had one the best oral surgeons you could ask for. He knew I was super nervous (obviously, because I was crying like a big ol' baby), but he came in the room, handed me a kleenex and said it was perfectly normal for me to be so freaked out. He asked if I had any questions and I only had one thing to say; "I just don't want to remember anything that is about to happen." "None of it?" "Not a single thing." "Well I can make that happen." And he did. They gave me a nice dose of versed through the IV and hooked me up to some gas...BOOM. Next thing I know, I wake up with a bunch of gauze in my mouth and the nurse asking if I was doing alright. It wasn't bad at all...you know, other than feeling like my face is 10 times bigger than it should be.
Right now, I feel like some one punched me in the face and my tongue feels like sandpaper. Which is a lovely combination of misery. I just can't wait to get all this damn gauze out so I can close my mouth all the way and get to the fun part...PUDDING, and percocet of course.
P.S. If there are typos, I'm tired, and don't care.
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