all about my stupid boring life

Being on anesthesia was a surreal yet unique experience. I tried to be funny by [trying] fighting the effects of the anesthesia as soon as I felt them kicking in, just to see how far I can go. And let me tell you upfront, it was completely impossible. The effects were immediate. My eyes weighed a ton shortly after and I remembered telling myself: this should be very interesting. Then I was out. Completely out.

It seemed like a couple of minutes have passed when I heard a woman calling my name. It felt like I was waking up from a short afternoon nap. Although, if you have been following me on Twitter, my naps are almost always never short. [The following series of events were hazy and I speak completely from memory. A very drugged up memory] I woke up with a huge suction hose sucking down my throat. I immediately reached out to check my face by delicately padding every inch of surface area with my fingertips. I can imagine at this moment how puzzled everyone in the room must’ve been during my own little face mission. What the fuck is this boy doing?. They actually had to hold my arms down to stop me from doing that. There was a slight struggle and also minor swearing involved, but then again, I could just be having a mini conversation in my mind. A very faint voice asked “kenapa?” (translated: why?). With a mouth full of bloody gauze, I replied “arexsd myds chejkhsd dropzsding!?” [It's actually 'are my cheeks drooping?' in mouth-full-of-bloody-gauze language]. I had to repeat myself a few times until a kind-hearted soul answered No, promptly followed by, an inappropriate soft giggle. Hahahaha. Looking back at it today, it was funny — I had surgery done on my teeth but the second I woke up, I checked my face.

To counteract the slight shivering, they doubled my blanket and blowed warm air into it. I recalled telling myself “Wow, this is quite nice”. I looked around to find myself in a completely different room. It was white and equally bright. A lady in blue scrubs was sitting right beside me. She was busy penning down things on a clipboard. I asked for the time. It was 9.36AM (shit, where did the time go?). I glanced around to see a few figures (I didn’t have my glasses on remember) in seemingly similar attire walking in and around the room. I was then presented with my extracted teeth. All three of them conveniently placed in a small urine jar. One is in four tiny fragments. I think I even asked for my dental x-ray films in my fancy mouth-full-of-bloody-gauze language. I don’t know what for, but I remembered asking for it. It must’ve been the drugs. Hahaha.

And here I present you my extracted teeth. Artistically taken with my camera to show just a glimpse of the bloody mess inside. Yes, I was thinking about you, you squeamish readers.

{ 5 comments }

The fact than I am on General instead of Local anesthesia worries me a bit. As I wasn’t given the option (although I’d definitely go with General), it forces me to question the complexity of my case and the likelihood of post-op complications. The dentist did say my third molars are growing in just fine (an x-ray scan showed that I have a ‘big enough mouth’ hahaha) but he recommends an extraction just to avoid problems in the future. He also offered to fix (by removing) my impacted upper right canine.

I’ll be spending Saturday morning sprawled on a bed under a blinding white light. During this time, a dentist will be shoving his medieval play tools into my mouth as a team of nurses and of-course, not forgetting my lovely anesthetist, look over him. [According to Google] Firstly, he makes an incision in my gums and break my wisdom tooth into tiny pieces with a plier. He will then fish for these tiny fragments out of my, now swollen, jaw while paying close attention to the clock because it’s almost time for brunch. At some point, he might also have to put his knees on my chest to yank them out. Fortunately, I am completely high on drugs to even pay attention to the ordeal. As a backup plan, I’m clenching my hands in a fist shortly before sedation, just incase I come out of anesthesia mid surgery. And let me tell you, if that happens, I will not be the only one leaving the clinic with a very sore jaw and maybe even a bloody nose (if he’s lucky). Hahahaha.

Time to put on my brave face and then slowly morph into a chipmunk over the weekend.
YIEESH.

Talk to you soon.

{ 3 comments }

I know my Anesthetist. She is Burmese, most likely in her late-thirties, soft-spoken and very polite. She does her late afternoon jogs around our neighborhood. I have seen her numerous times here before; therefore, I presume she lives nearby. I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE LADY. TAKE EXTRA CAUTION. Hahaha. She is also good friends with my mom. It’s all good.

My trip to the Anesthetist office was swift and easy. A few questions (the usual: allergy, any prior surgeries etc. all easily answered as non that I am aware of), a blood pressure check (a stethoscope was also involved somewhere in the process) and a brief overview on what will be done and then I was out.

She explained the induction process (most likely via inhalation) and that I will be intubated (a pleasant way of saying she is gonna shove a tube through my nostrils and down my throat) as soon as I was fully sedated. “You won’t feel a thing,” she said. “Well, you might feel something weird in the nose area when you wake up although this is unlikely, but this is completely normal,” she later added. My only reaction to the statement was I hope it doesn’t make me sneeze (google: dry sockets). Convincingly, she said it won’t.

She later apologetically added that I would have to re-take those blood test as soon the assessment is over. They couldn’t trace my results. I don’t mind as this is not a problem. There was also no ‘monkey business’ for the past few months (it really has been awhile hmmm), so I should be alright.

I later made my way to the Haemotology Dept, took a number and waited patiently. A male phlebotomist administered my blood, this time with a regular syringe with a tiny needle, so small infact, it’s laughable. If memory serves me right, my previous vacuum tube technique involves a much much larger tip.

I still haven’t gotten it through my mind yet that by the end of this week, I will be a pill popper with a very sore jaw, a swollen face which could possibly resemble a chipmunk (hopefully not), impaired speech (hopefully not) and an appalling diet consisting of soft cold foods.

Fun.

{ 6 comments }