So I just created all my stuffs … three hours ago now.
I tried to sleep, I really really tried (<– vicious lie) but I can’t drift off to dreamland.
When I had my wisdom teeth removed (years ago), I was currently in my first few weeks of sign language classes in college. I’m terribly afraid of any and all things doctor-y and even remotely procedure like (I had to take chill pills just to have my teeth cleaned as a child…I’m that neurotic).
I took the oh so wonderful relax me pill 2 hours before the visit as prescribed and wasn’t experiencing too much anxiety as I walked back into the little room that I knew for sure I would die in.
The nice doctor/nurse person tried to find a vein in my chubby little arm a few times, then moved on to the back of my hand and was finally successful in getting in the IV (<– that is not a roman numeral 4).
They (I can’t remember if it was a Mr. He or a Ms. She) said “Now this might feel a little cold! Does it feel cold?”
I went to answer/nod yes, but I immediately lost consciousness.
I don’t know if whatever was in that little tube was that effective or if I passed out like the wimp I am, but regardless I was out like a light.
As soon as I woke up I had an agenda.
I wanted my teeth!
For some reason I vividly remembered as a kid in the 3rd grade, a boy in my class bringing a creepy long tooth he had had extracted to class in a little glass vile for show-and-tell and that instantly shot him into 3rd-grader-rock-star status.
I was in my mid 20’s now but by golly I wanted a cool vile of my own teeth too!
I frantically started signing (remember the beginner sign language course?) “Where are my teeth? I want my teeth?”
Let’s pause here.. .
I know what you’re thinking;
- He was in his first sign language class, how did he know how to sign “Where are my teeth? I want my teeth.”
- He had just woken up from anesthesia, how could he possibly have the wits about him to sign anything?
- Did the doctors/medical staff know sign language?
- Did he ever get his teeth?
Well here are the answers…
The doctors/medical staff went to fetch my mother from where ever she was because there was a psychopath frantically gesturing at them (possibly accurately for all we know) in sign language from the creepy operation torture chair.
My mother, the calm cook and collected lady that she is, burst into the room and got right in my face and said “NO we did not save your nasty teeth, now get in this wheel chair so we can go home!”
The next thing I remember was attempting to get out of the car to go get my pain medicine.
I was old enough to know how pharmacies worked, but for some reason I was convinced that I (myself) had to go in to pick up my prescriptions. Unbeknownst to me, mom had already parked, gone in, gotten the medication, was getting back in the car, and had the car in reverse pulling out of our parking spot when I so cleverly decided to get out of the car to be my own adult. Good thing I was buckled in or bad bad things could have happened.
More stories on the adventures of me and my fearless mother to come.
Peace out home skillets,