The tooth, the whole tooth and nothing but the tooth.

Yesterday, I had my wisdom teeth removed.

Yeah, I know... it seems a little late in the game. Why? The doctors and dentists in my family have always advised against slicing and dicing when it's not necessary. But this spring, my dentist down here told me that yes- the time had finally come. My teeth were erupting, one was coming in crooked, and with thousands of dollars of orthodontia at risk, it was time to take the plunge.

Before the surgery, I asked my friends to recount their surgical stories. Most people said things were totally fine. One guy even told me he had all four teeth removed, and then hopped on his motorcycle and got back to work. Another girl said it was 10 minutes in and out and she was fine by the next day. What I've since learned is that every person- in fact, every tooth- has a different story to tell!

I like my dentist here in DC. She's got a nice office in a row house that reminds me a lot of my home dentist's office. The equipment is shiny and new and the service is wonderful. So when she referenced me to the oral surgeon I used, I trusted her. I even Googled him a bit, and read all positive things. So, I went there with confidence, sure it would be fine.

Sure enough, the people there were very kind- from the receptionist to my actual surgeon, everyone was very pleasant and comforting. But the office itself looked like a relic from the 1960's. I think I was in a Mad Men dental set, or maybe a forgotten Dharma station in the heart of DC. Here's a picture snapped of me pre-surgery while I waited. Look at that chair!!

* Gulp *

When it was time for my surgery, the dentist explained to me that he would be using local anesthesia and laughing gas to keep me relaxed. I signed my "You might die, and you enter this surgery willingly," papers, and off we went!

First, the surgeon stuck on a mask and asked me to breath through my nose. Almost instantly, I was in la-la land. It was like I had two brains- the brain that was aware of what was going on, and then the brain that was letting all these weird things come out of my mouth David-after-dentist style. I've never felt anything like it. I'm so glad I had the laughing gas on board though, or else I would have been a very unhappy camper for what followed!

The next thing the surgeon did was numb up my mouth locally. I have to say, it's incredible that they can find a way to avoid you feeling pain in your deepest of root canals. He gave me a few quick injections and suddenly I couldn't feel a thing. Before I knew it, he had one cheek pulled back and  starting pulling. The first tooth came out so quickly and easily I didn't even realize it was over. "Did you get it!?!" I asked incredulously. Yep, it was gone. But the second one was going to be a little more trouble.

The second tooth was impacted pretty deep and took a long while to wrestle out. I was so gassed-up that I'm not sure how long it took, but I do know I was asking some ridiculous questions along the way: "Is my jaw broken? Is it stuck? Is everything normal? I have to go to the bathroom!" I also have some hazy memories that freak me out, now that I think back about it. First of all, my surgeon wore glasses, and I was definitely watching parts of the surgery in the reflection of his lenses. Advice to future patients: Don't do that. It will panic you. Secondly, I was totally unprepared for when the saw came out. He had to saw the tooth, which must have been bent or buried in my jaw, three times. The sounds of that high-buzzing saw is terrifying, and the taste and smell of sawed tooth is utterly foul. I remember thinking at the time that it reminded me of the smell of my dog's feet-- like stale corn chips. But more bitter. Anyways, I was not prepared for that!

Then, without much warning- pop. It was out. And I was sitting up, without the gas mask, ready to go- silly state that I was.

The post-op recovery has definitely not been a walk in the park. One thing everyone likes to joke about is the awesome "free Vicodin" you get out of the deal. My body doesn't do well with narcotics, and apparently this has only gotten worse as I have gotten older-- they make me sick to my stomach. After two pills, I decided to quit them and try my luck with Motrin and Tylenol only. And the swelling, as you probably know, is comical. I feel like it will never go down. How gorgeous is this:

"I'm ready for my close up."

Overall, the pain has subsided a lot in the last 48 hours, which is good. But I'm definitely relegated to bowls of bland mush- yogurt, scrambled eggs, apple sauce, chicken and stars soup. Chewing seems a long way off! But- it's an excuse to eat ice cream as a form of sustained nutrition, so I'll take it!

Thanks to everyone who has been calling and wishing me well the last two days. It means the world to me. And a super special thank you to Jason, who has been a wonderful driver, nurse, chef, entertainer and comforter through this whole ordeal!

Peace and Love.