Oh, friends. The levity about Frankenmouth has significantly diminished now that I officially am Frankenmouth. My craw is veritably brimming with Human Dermal Product. Well, so is yours, if it comes to that, but mine is now the Human Dermal Product of others and it has been sewn in. I am finding this to be approximately as revolting as it sounds. However, the pain is very nearly gone. This doesn't mean I want to do anything crazy like chew or brush my teeth--let's not get ahead of ourselves. However, it does mean that I am no longer crying and counting the hours until my next dose of ibuprofin (a thing I'm pretty sure I don't know how to spell correctly and am too lazy to look up. What? I had surgery. Can you not cut me some slack?)
1. Reportedly, I wept upon coming (sort of) out from under sedation. My mother had to say, "Tell the doctor you're okay, honey." Which I did, I guess. Then I continued to cry all the way to the car and possibly much of the way home. I remember nothing whatsoever about this (see Bright Sides) but I can't stop thinking about it. Evidently, it is an unusual reaction. My mother thinks it was just a drug reaction. My doctor thinks it is a reasonable reaction to the trauma of a fairly extensive procedure. I can't stop wondering if I am really just deeply sad. That if you dip into my subconscious self, I am just a weeping mess. I have no evidence to support the theory that gum surgery sheds light on secret existential mourning, but I am doing plenty of fretting about it. Conscious or unconscious, I am an excellent fretter.
2. I woke up only three hours after getting to my parents' house post-surgery. They say some people sleep as long as ten hours. I enjoy sleeping; I was hoping for more.
3. When you get to the point where you have to start cutting back on the pain meds, it hurts. That's right. Having things sewn into your mouth hurts.
4. I had one stabby suture. Every time I would move my head a certain way, it would stab me in the cheek. I started to take it personally.
5. For several days, I felt like I looked more like Luke Wilson than myself. Look. I like Luke Wilson, but dude has a weird jaw.
6. Despite not being able to chew, I think I may be gaining weight. I'm looking at you, Trader Joe's pudding.
7. I'm performing on Saturday. And I kind of can't talk normally. Or smile.
1. I am overcome with love and gratitude for my parents who gave me sympathy and company and many, many edible things that do not requite chewing. Seriously, had I had to just come home by myself...well, I don't want to even think about how depressing that would have been. I am lucky.
2. I remember nothing at all about the surgery. The last thing I remember, I was in the lobby, looking at a magazine with pictures of Keira Knightly in costumes from Anna Karenina.(Which, for the record, are gorgeous.) My next clear memory is waking up in my parents' guest room. Thank you, drugs.
3. I went in to the doctor's office on Monday and they trimmed the stabby suture. Ha! Take that. Also, they seemed entirely delighted by what an awesome job they'd done sewing things into my mouth. I basically just have to take their word for it.
4. Accidental experimentation suggests that with the Human Dermal Product in place, I may be able to drink cold beverages without pain for the first time in years.
5. While lying around waiting to take more drugs, I read The Marriage Plot in three days. I liked it very much.
6. I have allowed myself to buy Trader Joe's pudding.
7. Theoretically, I'll now be able to keep my teeth in my head for many years to come. This pleases me.