I Feel So Unwise

...because I got my wisdom teeth out on Monday.

It sucks (and continues to suck).

Wanna hear the story?

I thought you'd never ask.

To start things off, let's relive a couple of conversations Tim and I had the week before getting them out:

Conversation #1

Tim: We should really look for a new place to live soon.

Dani: Yeah, I should try and do that before I get my wisdom teeth out so we don't have to wait until after.

Tim: I think you're kind of overestimating your surgery...I mean, you're not going to be knocked out useless for two weeks.  Most people are fine after a day or two with pain meds.

Dani: Oh...okay.  I guess I'll have time to look into that while I'm at home next week.


Conversation #2

Dani: Tim, I sure hope that four days is going to be enough recuperation time to get back to work after getting all four wisdom teeth yanked out of my head.

Tim: [and I QUOTE] "You'll be totally fine. That's plenty of time." (you can replay this line in your head in slow motion coming from Tim's mouth if it would help you get the proper imagery.)

You can also imagine in your little brains several other conversations that occurred that week, following the same template: i.e., I express concern over the upcoming surgery; Tim tells me good-naturedly that I'll be fine and not to worry.

So.  The morning of the surgery, 7:45 AM.  I go in, they knock me out completely (I don't know how you could stand it otherwise), and Tim waits in the lobby.  The next thing I remember, Tim and I are in the same room and he asked me how I was feeling.  Really, really tired.  But I felt really coherent, just really slow because of the drugs.

Tim drives me home before his class starts at 10:50.  On the way there, he said, "You know, I think I'll stay home with you today instead of going to my classes."  I told him (you can imagine the voice of a three toed sloth, if they could speak, with their mouth stuffed with gauze...this will help you get a more accurate picture), "I think I'll be okay.  I'll just sleep.  You can go to class."  You know, 'cause Tim was all like, "Dani, you'll be fine", and I was all thinking, "He's probably right."

But he decided to stay home with me anyway, which turned out to be a really good thing.  REALLY GOOD THING.

I got home and fell asleep on the couch for 3 hours, woke up, took my first (and ONLY, more about that later...) dose of Percocet, had 2 bites of chocolate pudding, and fell back asleep for 3 hours.  Tim, in the meantime, just stayed home and studied.  Upon reawakening, I had to use the bathroom.  So Tim helped me sit up slowly and I made it to The Throne.

Whilst I was thusly seated, I told Tim, "I don't feel good." I just felt really fuzzy and my vision was clouding over...and the next thing I know, I could hear Tim from really far away, softer and then louder and louder, saying, "Dani. Dani. Dani? Are you with me? Dani? Dani? Are you with me?" I opened my eyes and looked at him and I've never seen him more worried.  I was confused at first and I didn't know what happened.  It felt like an hour had passed.  I thought he left the bathroom and then came back to find me unconscious, but it turns out he was there the whole time and I was only out for about 10 seconds.

The scary thing was, Tim said I also went into shock when I passed out, and my tongue slipped into the back of my throat and started choking me and my eyes rolled back in my head and yeah....Tim had nightmares for a couple nights after that.  He said he distinctly remembered his Scout training about helping people in shock, and that he should try and get something to move my tongue out of the way, but he couldn't reach anything.  You're not supposed to use your fingers in case they clamp down on you and injure you, but Tim decided he'd rather have a living wife and a stumpy hand than the reverse (he passed The Ultimate Husband Test, in other words).  So he stuck his fingers in there, and I started breathing again, and then came to.

So obviously, Tim decided to get me back to the couch to lie down and then give the doctor's office a call to see what to do.  I remember standing up in the bathroom, and then nothing.  The next thing I remember, I could hear the same thing again--Tim was calling my name out over and over, and eventually I came to and looked down and freaked out, because I was covered in throw up and it looked like blood.  I think it was the blood I must've swallowed during the surgery, or something, but it was everywhere.

Tim said I passed out and went into shock again in the bathroom, so he bear hugged me and carried me over to the couch.  Then he got my tongue out of my throat, then I puked, then I woke up.  Tim called the office and they said it was most likely a reaction to the drug meds, so I shouldn't take them anymore.

ExcusemeWHAT? Hello, I just had FOUR TEETH SURGICALLY REMOVED FROM MY HEAD. So they said, take 2 (two!) Ibuprofen every 4 (FOUR!!) hours.  And that has pretty much been what I've been on for the last week.  Yikes.  They're mostly healed now, but surprisingly I'm still in quite a bit of pain on one side.  I think it's just because I am older than most people are when they get them out.

Super long story, but the point is, I'm so glad Tim was there.  I for sure would've tried to go to the bathroom by myself if he wasn't, and in the course of passing out/going into shock/throwing up, I might have done a lot of damage to myself, or worst case scenario, even died!  Our bathroom is so small and the toilet is right next to tiled walls, a porcelain sink, and the tub.  It wouldn't have been too hard to knock myself out in there.

The other point is that I was right about being worried about the surgery.  But we'll let that one slide, just this once, because Tim is The Husband Of The Year.