And now, a report on the bloody aftermath...
Feelin' fine.
Beyond fine, actually: I've taken 2 oxycodone and 2 ibuprofen today, and none since around 2:30 or 3. The stitched hole left behind by the impacted lower tooth has settled itself into a low, dull ache that really isn't worth medicating. The top two holes, honestly, don't even seem to be there. Except that my tongue can now feel the backs of my top second molars, which is just weird.
I must again profusely thank Rena for being my transportation and hanging out with me after the doctors made it sound like I ran the risk of tumbling down a set of stairs if left to my own post-sedation devices (though I'm not entirely convinced taking the Friday off was purely philanthropic on her part). All five episodes of Torchwood: Children of Earth later (which, incidentally, was really quite good), it was obvious that I was going to pull through. Went home, took the best goddamn nap ever, woke up to a thunderstorm.
Now I'm working through a pint of Rice Dream and getting caught up on everyone that's been so darn thoughtful to me on the intertubes today. In retrospect, the speed with which I recovered from the extraction 2 years ago should have clued me in that this really wasn't anything remotely approaching a big deal. So my apologies to those I've annoyed with my constant dwelling on the procedure over the past week or so. It really feels tantamount to losing sleep over getting one's car inspected.
Oh, and maybe five hours after the procedure I discovered that they'd left me with a new superfluous third nipple. Observe:
I suppose it must have just felt really really natural...
Beyond fine, actually: I've taken 2 oxycodone and 2 ibuprofen today, and none since around 2:30 or 3. The stitched hole left behind by the impacted lower tooth has settled itself into a low, dull ache that really isn't worth medicating. The top two holes, honestly, don't even seem to be there. Except that my tongue can now feel the backs of my top second molars, which is just weird.
I must again profusely thank Rena for being my transportation and hanging out with me after the doctors made it sound like I ran the risk of tumbling down a set of stairs if left to my own post-sedation devices (though I'm not entirely convinced taking the Friday off was purely philanthropic on her part). All five episodes of Torchwood: Children of Earth later (which, incidentally, was really quite good), it was obvious that I was going to pull through. Went home, took the best goddamn nap ever, woke up to a thunderstorm.
Now I'm working through a pint of Rice Dream and getting caught up on everyone that's been so darn thoughtful to me on the intertubes today. In retrospect, the speed with which I recovered from the extraction 2 years ago should have clued me in that this really wasn't anything remotely approaching a big deal. So my apologies to those I've annoyed with my constant dwelling on the procedure over the past week or so. It really feels tantamount to losing sleep over getting one's car inspected.
Oh, and maybe five hours after the procedure I discovered that they'd left me with a new superfluous third nipple. Observe:
I suppose it must have just felt really really natural...