Two weeks ago I went for a day stay in hospital two have two wisdom teeth extracted. I'm not one who worries about hospitals or dentists because I'm a big brave soldier. It was a long day as I was the very last person to go down for surgery. This is third day stay I have had in a little over eighteen months and each time I have been last down. Now I don't mind waiting but five hours of having Radio Two inflicted on one surely infringes my human rights. Torture so it was
Anyway, I came round and was sent home after being told that the op had gone well but they had had "fun and games getting one of them out". Well I'm glad someone enjoyed themselves.
Actually post operatively I wasn't too bad. Lily and Sybil picked me up from the hospital and made sure I was settled okay and I had a fairly restful night. Next day I was a bit sore but not really that bad but on the Saturday I suddenly felt a bit yucky. Those of us who are in constant pain do get used to it to some degree. It hurts a lot but then there are different degrees of hurtiness. When I woke up on Saturday morning my jaw was fucking killing me. I could barely open my mouth and managed to spill a great deal of soup down my tee-shirt instead of getting it in my mouth. Five mouth washes with salt water and tons of pain killers and anti-biotics didn't shift the pain and I ended up having most of the rest of the week off sick.
I am still pretty sore after two weeks and still can't open my mouth fully. A Belgian bun had to be disassembled before I could eat it today and I can only just open my mouth wide enough to take a sandwich. On returning to the hospital yesterday for the follow up appointment I think I have discovered the route of the problem. The clinical nurse (as opposed to an accidental one) read my notes and said that they had to remove the lower impacted tooth by drilling into my jaw. Blimey, I thought it smart a bit. I'm very glad I was having a kip at the time.. She said it could be another couple of weeks yet before I'm recovered. I'm looking forward to a nice big pork chop or a lump of steak to celebrate. I have been living off soft and mushy things for the last 13 days and I'm a little bit bored by it now.
Now I must dash. Marmite is mountaineering again. This time by climbing up on my seven foot cd racks and settling down for a small sleep. For some reason he has decided he wants to be a Mountain Lion when he grows up and is getting in loads of practice by sleeping on high things in my flat. I suppose I'll have to get him down.
Labels: Drills, Mountaineering cats., Teeth