The juicy details

7:53 PM

Perhaps you've caught on, but I tend to find enjoyment in going into detail over my injuries/aliments. If that annoys you, just don't read any further. :)

Today, I went to the Periodontist for surgery. "Surgery" sounds like a scary word. Well...it is.
I have a terrible "recession" in my front bottom teeth, where the gums have basically disappeared, showing bare tooth all the way down. My gum is basically a lame bit of thin tissue stretched across the bone of my jaw, under my bottom two front teeth. Apparently it's because this stringy thing with a fancy name that I wouldn't remember that connects my gum to my lower lip is too short, so every time I talk, it pulls the gums down off my teeth. And I talk often. And a lot. Anyway, it's very serious. At least I think it is... So my orthodontist referred me to a gum specialist. So today I went in for surgery. First they swabbed me up with this wonderful tasting stuff on the area they were going to slice and dice; the recession area, and the left-side of the roof of my mouth, for numbing. Then they jabbed me with a needle twice in each area (boy did I feel it!) with stronger anesthesia. Oh, by the way, they told me to keep my eyes closed "It just helps you relax". They probably didn't want me to see the glinting, bloody, barbaric instruments they were cramming in my mouth. I obliged them. I was tempted to sneak a peek once in a while, just to check if I was spurting blood to later brag about, but I thought that would put me slightly on edge. I was trying to pull off the chipper-but-carefree-couldn't-care-less-that-my-mouth-was-being-pulverized look, so I refrained, for the sake of my reputation. Next the surgeon rattled off some numbers, code names for instruments I guess. He probably didn't want to say to his assistant "Pass me that fat scalpel there, make sure it's extra sharp! And how 'bout those icy-cold-steel scissors too, while you're at it." He said "Number 15 and 24. thank you" Boy, was I relieved. NOT. I felt the chilly metal against my lip, and I could hear the kshktch of him sawing through that stringy thing with a fancy name that I wouldn't remember that connects my gum to my lower lip. I could feel it too, in a dull disturbing way. You get the point. Next, the assistant crammed gauze under my lip, and told me to open wider. The surgeon then cut a chunk of flesh out of the left-side of the roof of my mouth. He stuffed more gauze in, and then started stitching the graft of flesh to the recession area. Then they packed a substance like chewing gum over the wounded areas, like a band-aid for the inside of your mouth. They took away my bloody drool bib and said "All done! That wasn't too bad, was it?" I gargled agreement, and attempted a sloppy grin. Then Dr. Weintraub (the surgeon) gave me a little bouquet of red flowers tied with ribbon and said "You were a wonderful patient!" My sloppy grin got wider. With that, he reminded me to eat lots of ice cream for the next few days "It's the best", and he left. The assistant then told me what not to eat, and gave me an ice pack "It will keep your face from ballooning with swelling". Thanks! I swallowed a painkiller pill, and dribbled water down my chin into my lap. And that was it! What fun! I'd do it all over again! Now I am moderately miserable since the Novocaine has worn off, but now I have a delicious story to tell of surviving surgery!!
If you want to send me a get well soon gift, I take both cash and credit. Ah, no. Catch you later...

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