Sowmya minus three teeth

Anesthesia and analgesia are perhaps not mankind’s greatest inventions, but certainly, I would say, rank in the top 10. I happen to be a very pain sensitive person (also known as a wimp) and have never been more grateful to have been born in an era of painkillers and chemical agents that can keep you blissfully unaware of someone slicing open your gums.

Having one’s wisdom teeth out shouldn’t be such a big deal because it really isn’t such a big deal. But everything is a big deal in my life because I am dramatic and enjoy blowing things out of proportion, hence such a long and detailed blog post. Also, I had never had surgery in my life. Or been put under. And had body parts removed.

So it was with great apprehension that I bid goodbye to Swetha and rode home on an empty Wednesday afternoon megabus towards my uncertain future.

I was forced awake early on Thursday morning. I laughed to myself darkly. I was waking up to be put to sleep. Haha. Got to the oral surgeon’s office in Belmont. I expected a sterilized operating theater. Instead, I was put into leather seat with an attached headlamp. A nurse stuck a couple of electrodes onto me. I stared at the heart monitor. Normal PQRST. But I think it might have been regularly irregular. The doctor came in. Good morning, hi how are you, I’m doing great, how is med school, blah blah. He attached a mask of pure oxygen to my mouth. Then he stuck my left arm with an IV and I was totally like, hey, just learned how to do that a few days ago. He said, “okay, just started the Valium. You should start to feel something in about 15 seconds.”  4 seconds later, I was unconscious. 

The next thing I remember is being walked out of the room by a nurse and made to lie down on a bed. I tried to speak. Muffled sounds came out. There was gauze in my mouth. I grabbed my phone and informed Facebook that I hadn’t died of malignant hyperthermia (turns out, you can’t get that from Valium, as my dad reminded me later). I called my mom on the phone. The doctor came in and told us that I had been such a good patient and wouldn’t need to come in for a post op. My mom took a video of me while asking questions while we walked to the car (no, I will not be posting this).

Well, the valium actually wore off pretty quickly and a half hour later the world came back into focus. I hadn't eaten anything all night/morning so I tried to eat some rice, except it was super annoying because it kept getting stuck between my lips and gums, which were still numb. I drove to Whole Foods and bought some soup. After devouring half a carton of disgusting Cream of Mushroom soup and a slice each of chocolate mousse and coconut cream cake, I took my first ever pill of Vicodin and entered a euphoric daze. I awoke a few hours later and walked downstairs. Vishnu looked at me and snickered. I looked in a mirror. My cheeks had swollen up and I looked like a cherub (no, not putting up pictures).

I spent most of the rest of the week bumming at home and napping. I tied a scarf around my face when we went out shopping on Saturday and I’m sure most people thought I had some sort of airborne disease so thankfully no one spoke to me. A few days ago, I started eating solid food again and today, I feel no pain.

I think it was all kind of a fun experience. It didn't hurt nearly as much as I thought it would and maybe I want to be an oral maxillofacial surgeon when I grow up. I wonder what kind of a board score you need for that. You know what I just realized? I should have asked the surgeon if I could shadow him for one of my COPP visits. Damn.