I don't pretend to be who/what I'm not. I will be honest here unless I publish under the category "This could be news," which is 99% fiction and a wee bit sarcastic. ;-) I want readers who come here to have as much fun as I do. Not all subjects can be fun, but most can be funny if I do my job right ;-)
My inner child is reflected in my logo and will change at a moment's notice.
The next three days are lost time for me. I slept most of the time. I had no appetite. When Pain woke me, I would test my blood sugar, drink Glucerna and take antibiotics and pain pills. I was this robot programmed to heal and drink protein.
I realized that I missed my daughter’s birthday. It was the day after my surgery. I meant to touch base and finish things up before D-Day, but not all I wanted to do got done. So, no call from her mom before or after the big day. I know she understands, but I still feel bad.
Another thing I feel bad about is my hubby is HATING doing the “woman’s work” for me. You know, cleaning the kitchen, cooking, cleaning the kitchen again. The thing I feel bad about is that I am enjoying ignoring dishes, trash, recycle lying around the kitchen, waiting for someone to deal with them. Someone that is not me. Not this week.
I’m totally not into cooking. I love hubby, but he can fix his own food for a while. Nobody is cooking for me, except those people who make Glucerna and Premier Protein. I will try to refrain from whining about the liquid diet and be grateful I live in the age of smoothies and protein drinks.
Hubby went to bed early, so he missed out on The Revenge of the Sock Monkey and other tales of horror. If you can’t handle gross or horror kinds of movies, you may want to skip this episode in the saga
Revenge of the Sock Monkey: My grandma had a knit one that was dark brown with vivid red lips that streched across his entire face. That was the face I saw when I changed out bloody gauze and forgot about vow not to look into a mirror tonight.
Coloring different, but same face.
Monkey at least had some cuteness going for him. Not so for me. The swelling was from the bottom of my forehead to my neck. The brusing was dark brown to brown – except for my lips. They were dark brownish-red, with a blackish tone. AND they stretched ear to ear. My chin was not there at all.
The revenge part is that I hated my grandma’s monkey. It somehow had an evil expression and I ignored it. Now I have it’s face. To add to the horror that my lips were swollen and stretched across my face, was the blood.that continually seeped from my mouth. Because I could not open my lips or mouth enough to spit, I carried a paper towel with me. This was not the worst part of the night, even.
Attack of the Sinuses: My sinus cavity(s) usually clogs up at night. But tonight, after the pain meds began to work, I decided to carefully try and blow my nose. A few gentle blows and I got some bloody mucus out of there. Same went for the other nostril. At least, I accomplished something, right?
Maybe 20 minutes later, my right sinus needs emptying. I tried to blow softly, but it was not enough to dislodge what was in there. A stronger blow unleashed a bloodclot. The next one burst a huge blood bubble and the amount of blood amazed me. There was still more in there. It took many more blows to extract a long rope of blood and tissue. Yuk. Then it broke free and I could breath air through there again.
The amount of blood frightened me. I was afraid my sinus floor had been pierced. It’s dark and you’re alone, and I consider that if I’m the only one awake, I’m alone. The imagination has a field day (night.), if you allow it to. I turned on a couple more lights and made sure blood had not spattered on my lounge chair or the carpet. Only my jammies and my blanket, and myself. My kleenex trash can (using empty tissue box to put used ones in), was overflowing with drenched and bloody tissues. When I began to smell blood, I tossed the entire box into the kitchen trash can. No smell whiffted out of that cupboard – at least to the family room, where I was tucked in tight with my slightly bloodied blanket and the TV remote. For the next hour or so, whatever was on the screen. I watched it with my eyes closed.
My breakfast today is 4 capsules of antibiotics and a couple of other meds from my vast pharmaceutical buffet. We have an hour’s drive to the oral surgeon’s office. A 7:15 am check-in means leaving our house at 6:00 am. It feels like the middle of the night because the sun has not risen yet. Yawn.
Scotty, please beam me here NOW! I want to be here!
Of course, I am ready to go on time. No coffee (fasting remember?), and makeup is a total no-no. Comfy, loose clothing is required. I should have just stayed in my jammies. Because this surgery involved my entire mouth, it was a much bigger deal than having an extraction and 1 bone graft/implant to do. I know I had built it up in my head, but getting prepped for surgery was a new deal that morning. The surgical room was larger, more personnel were bustling about and I had an anesthesiologist of my own to keep me under and watch my vitals. The nitrious did not calm me down, but getting the IV in was painless. The last thing I remember was figuring out where I heard all the annoying beeping sounds before. The sounds of a heart monitor.
~ ~ ~ 3 hours later ~ ~ ~
Before I had completely woken up I felt intense pain and all I wanted was to go back to sleep. But no. All those people were there talking to me, telling me it was over and what a good patient I have been. I was unable to comment – I was gagged with pads of gauze. But the only thing “over” was for them. When they told me I had to go back to Doc’s so he could finish with the old crowns, so the denture could be placed, I wept.
We had to drive an hour to get to Doc’s. Surg sent the tools and parts he would need to “safe” the old implants. I was still under the influence and the demoral had begun to diminish. Novocane is not as effective on me – it starts wearing off as soon as I am numb. I should have been able to go home and take pain meds. Not today. It was another 90 minutes before I could snuggle into my reclyner.. An hour after that, the pain meds kicked in and I slept through TV.
A day or so later, I thought about being told (enthusiastically, at that) how great I did during surgery. What does that mean? I was unconscious. Weird.
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