Alvin, Simon, Theodore & Me

OK, so maybe I don't look like a chipmunk anymore, but I did all weekend.

The big dental procedure has come and gone and all I have to say is that it was one traumatic experience. I am so very glad I never have to do it again, because I don't think I could. Well, honestly, I probably could but I'd probably be more nervous.

Allow me to take you on stroll down memory lane...

I spent a lovely Thanksgiving in Queens, but I did wake up that morning feeling hot, sweaty and a little weak. JM deduced that it was probably my anxiety manifesting itself as a physical illness. Made sense, but nevertheless I was intent to get home at a decent hour so I could get some sleep.

The next day I woke up pretty early so I decided to go on a short shopping trip to make me feel a little better. I managed to pick up a few DVDs I wanted and a pair of jeans. What? I didn't want to go all crazy on Black Friday. I knew I'd probably have to shell out big bucks in a few hours, so I had to show some restraint.

Eventually I made it to the dentist's office...30 minutes early. Apparently public transportation was working in my favor that morning. Funny how it does that when you have no desire to be at your intended destination. Anyway, I was there early so I decided to immerse myself in one of their celebrity tabloids. Just as as I was getting into the truth behind Robert and Kristin's secret romance, they called my name. Everything happened so quickly and before I knew it the dentist was putting some contraption on my nose and telling me to just breathe normally. He talked me through the process and suddenly the laughing gas hit me. One minute I'm staring at the ceiling and the next I can't seem to keep my eyes open.

At this point you'd think I'd be mellow like Jell-O, uhhhh.....yeah, that's not what happened. My whole body started to feel really heavy so I tried to raise one of my arms, but found that I couldn't for some reason. In fact, I felt like I couldn't move at all. Of course this triggered my mind to go into panic attack mode. I tried to say something, but that wasn't happening with a needle in my mouth. I could feel my heart beating faster and faster and I thought for sure it would stop any minute. (I later found out that an elevated heartbeat was normal in situations like this--who knew?) Then the bright light above seemed to turn into the bright white light you hear people talk about when they're on the verge of death. As if that wasn't enough, I felt like I was spinning and couldn't seem to stop it. So, instead of feeling relaxed, my overactive mind just made me even more anxious.

Then finally, after the dentist had given me my eight shots of Novocaine and I was sufficiently numb and breathing at a much normal speed, my chair finally stopped spinning and he started giving me orders to open my mouth. He started with the top left tooth, which was growing sideways, and amazingly enough it seemed to come out with no trouble. I thought, "Awesome! This might not be so bad." Yeah, not really.

The lower left tooth seemed to be giving him a little trouble, so he had to get some help from his trusty drill and yank on it a little harder. Eventually it came out and my left leg only popped up for a minute before it relaxed again. Next up was the lower right tooth. This was being just as feisty as the lower left and required a little more drilling and tugging. My left leg stayed popped up just a little bit longer. There were a few grunts from me and lots of readjusting of my head, but eventually it decided to come out. OK, so far not so bad, but wait...we're not done yet.

The dentist decided to leave the best one for last--the impacted upper right tooth. This one definitely put up a fight. I'm not sure how long he was working on it, but from where I was sitting it felt like forever. My left leg was popped up the entire time and there was definitely way more drilling and tugging on this tooth. I mean, the man was really trying to yank this one out. He was trying all sorts of positions to get the best grip and my lip was definitely taking a beating. Throughout this whole thing I could feel pain around my lips as they stretched my mouth and repositioned tools. Unfortunately, that was the one area of my mouth that wasn't completely numb. At one point during this knock-down drag-out fight, the dentist warned me that I would hear a sound. I can't really remember what kind of sound he said it was, but I just remember cringing when I heard it. I also remember the assistant stroking my arm and reassuring me that this was almost over. I suppose she did this when she realized there were tears coming out of my eyes. Then finally, the dentist was victorious and the tooth made it on the tray with its other fallen brothers.

They packed my mouth full of gauze and brought me down from the gas. As I sat up I saw the tray in front of me with all my bloody teeth. It looked like something from a horror movie. The assistant asked me if I wanted to keep them and I quickly said no. If I wanted to keep them, I would have left them in my mouth instead of going through this barbaric torture.

After paying my monstrous bill and getting my meds, JM and CM picked up and took me home--for which I'm very thankful. I thought I could make it home on my own, which I would have done if I had no options, but to keep my mom from worrying I decided to ask for help. I'm glad I did. They took me home, bought me some food and cooked for me. They even hung out for a little bit until they knew I'd be OK. Unfortunately, that's when the real fun started.

The Percoset decided to kick in shortly after they left and that's when I realized my body didn't really like it. Of course I should have known this since I knew it didn't like Vicodin but whatever. Now, during the first 24 hours you're not supposed to rinse your mouth or spit, which probably also means that vomiting is out of the question. Well, as many of you know, I have a problem with nausea and vomiting so you can pretty much guess what happened. Three words: Red projectile vomit. It was like something out of The Exorcist. Yeah, definitely not pretty.

After I cleaned up that horrific mess in the bathroom, I rinsed my sore mouth as best I could and stuffed it with more gauze to help with the bleeding. Can I just say that the process of replacing the gauze was totally gross. Every time I took it out blood would dribble down my chin, making me look like a freaking vampire. Amazingly, that violent display of upchucking did not make the bleeding worse. So I crawled into bed and was able to get the sleep I needed and craved.

A few hours later, my rumbling stomach woke me up. After only having oatmeal in the morning and throwing up what little I could eat after the procedure, I decided I needed a tiny bowl of mashed potatoes to quiet my stomach. I made myself some tea and let it cool down while I ate the delicious taters. About 15 minutes after eating, a wave of nausea hit me again. Fortunately, this time I was able to get to the bathroom in time. Once that whole thing was done I decided I was going to call it a night, crawl back into bed and pray that things would be better the next day--and they were.

My face was still swollen and I had some red abrasion in the corner of my mouth, but it didn't look like I had just gotten into a fight with Manny Pacquiao. It just looked like I'd gained 10 pounds in my face overnight. I can only imagine how bigger it would have been if I hadn't put those ice packs on my face. I spent the rest of the weekend on the couch trying to stuff my face with mush when all I really wanted was a giant cheeseburger. I still want one now.

Anyway, that's my tale. The one bright ray of sunshine to come out of this entire experience is knowing that I will not have to pull out another wisdom tooth ever again. I suppose that qualifies as a happy ending.