It all started with a trip to my dentist for a routine cleaning and check up. Since I do this twice a year, I have learned not fear it. I know what to expect. What I didn't expect, was to be told I needed dental surgery to remove the wisdom teeth on my left side. The ones on the right side have grown in straight, but the ones on the left were tilted, and partially buried under a layer of gum tissue. I never paid much attention to them since they didn't hurt, but apparently, my dentist had been watching them. This visit, he found decay (ew!).
He told me I could fill the tooth if I wanted to, but the location and position of the tooth makes it difficult for me to properly brush and floss to maintain it. I also learned that when you remove a bottom wisdom tooth, it is standard procedure to also remove the one above it, and vice-versa. He assured me that the decision was completely mine, but I could tell he thought surgery was my best option. He was of the opinion that the tooth would have to come out eventually anyway, and filling would just prolong the inevitable. (BTW, Dave was of the same opinion). My whole head was x-rayed, and a consultation with the oral surgeon was scheduled, giving me something to worry about for a week.
I arrived at the oral surgeon's office with my nerves already on edge, only to be treated to a nice, thick stack of papers to fill out. I became so disoriented that Dave had to help me (I'm so glad he loves me), but that was nothing compared to the consultation itself. By the time I was told about everything that can go wrong, I was ready to go back to dentist and tell him to fill the tooth, and I'd deal with it later. Please, don't misunderstand me. The oral surgeon was very nice, and he could tell I was an anxiety sufferer before I even told him of my diagnosis. He suggested that I be sedated for my procedure, and we wholeheartedly agreed.
(I know I'm going into more detail than is necessary, but I want to give you an idea of how the anxious mind works. Let me also point out that I've never had surgery of any kind in my life!)
Dr Peters, because of my anxiety, prescribed two valiums for me, one to take the night before my procedure, and the second to take an hour before. I was afraid of it. I've taken antidepressants before, but never valium, and I was afraid of it...and I had two weeks to be afraid of it. My surgery was scheduled for July 12th (which was last Friday), and I had two weeks to worry about everything. Potential side effects from the valium, potential complications from the surgery, the extra cost of the knock-out drops, and, Heaven forbid, What if the Knock-out drops don't work?! Yes, for two long weeks, I worried about it all!
Of course, none of my worries became reality. The surgery was a complete success, and I slept through the whole thing...and the rest of the day...and most of the evening. I was given medications for pain and nausea, and for swelling, plus a strong antibiotic. I'm sure it is completely unnecessary to tell you this, but I was very out of it that day. 9pm is when I was finally able to get out of bed without becoming nauseous, but I didn't stay up long. After a pain pill, and a lovely late dinner of chicken bouillon and jello, and maybe 30 minutes of television, I was falling back to sleep. I didn't fully wake up until after noon the next day. There was a little pain, but nothing I couldn't handle, so I opted out of my pain medicine. I have to pause to give credit where it is due. Dave has been amazing through all of this! I could not have asked for a better nurse than Dave has been. He has been, and continues to be, my rock through every struggle.
By Sunday, the pain had lessened even more. I was able to attend church, sing, and accompany Dave to the grocery store. It felt nice to be out of the house. I just knew the worst was over, and I was on the upside of things. I woke Monday with more discomfort. This surprised me after having done so well the day before, and like the idiot I am, I googled dry sockets. It didn't take long for all my anxiety to come rushing back with a vengeance. For the next two days, I was afraid I was going to dislodge the blood clot, which was the only thing preventing me from suffering excruciating pain. How much more can my nerves take?
My follow up appointment was yesterday, and I'm happy to report that all is well. The openings are healing nicely, the danger of dry sockets has passed, and all of my restrictions have been lifted! I was allowed to enjoy my first Diet Coke in 6 days! I have to continue taking my antibiotics until they are gone, and continue to flush out the sockets until they close up, but other than that, I'm a free woman! I still have soreness, but that's to be expected.
Before I close, I just have to vent a little. Why?! Why, oh, why do I do this to myself? Dr Peters did an excellent job with my surgery, and my recovery has been miraculous. Physically, things could not have gone more smoothly, but my anxiety made it into a traumatic event. I am so angry with myself! I have lived in fear for a month, and it was all so unnecessary. This is how I live! If I didn't believe in God, and if I didn't have a supportive husband, friends and family, and a praying church family, I don't know what I'd do.
