Surgery. This morning Luke is having his four wisdom teeth removed. In preparation for this, he had to do the normal things like not eat after midnight, etc. He also had to take a diazepam (Valium) an hour before his appointment.
About twenty minutes after he took the pill, Luke got the giggles. Now if you don’t know Luke, he’s mellow. He doesn’t giggle. Until today. I asked him what was so funny. He told me, “Nothing.” So I asked, “Why are you giggling?” Luke said, “My muscles feel really weird.” Not too much longer and he started to slur some of his words. Matt and Jacob elbowed each other and laughed behind their hands.
Soon Luke began to wander through the house. I said, “Luke, get your shoes on.” Luke found his tennis shoes and tried to put them on. The problem was that his foot missed the shoe. Completely. Matt and Jacob were nearly on the floor with laughter.
So now I’m in the waiting room. I asked the receptionist how long it would take. Apparently, slicing the gums, burrowing down to the four teeth, ripping them out, stitching things back up and waking from the anesthesia takes only 45 to 60 minutes.
I can hear the sounds of machines making nasty noises. Ugh—shivers. I hate dentists. Though I guess this isn’t a dentist but an oral-maxillofacial surgeon. If that weren’t bad enough, the TV is set to Regis and Kelly. Ugh--completely vapid. And the office has some kind of scent machine pumping out an odor that’s a cross between soap and perfume. Maybe it’s supposed to cover the reek of people puking after anesthesia, but it makes me want to turn on a HEPA filter.
Okay. I didn’t think anything could be worse than R&K TV show, but now there’s some bizarre show where pregnant women are making casts of their bellies so they don’t “forget” (uh, hello, most people don’t want to remember) and they’re having their tummies painted—“it’s relaxing.” Another reason I’m so glad we don’t have television!
An hour’s come and gone. Poor Luke!!
After an hour and one half, the surgeon came and got me. Luke’s case wasn’t as smoothed as they’d hoped. His roots were in the same “canal” as his blood vessels and nerves. He ended up bleeding quite a bit and may be in for some nasty pain. We went home with four prescriptions—the pharmacist told me the hydrocodone and ibuprofen combo should knock him out.
The nurse told us that Luke can’t have meat for two weeks. The problem is that Luke’s not retaining that information. His biggest concern seems to be how long before he can have meat. Each time I tell him that he has to wait two weeks, he becomes mortally offended all over again.