Last week, my face exploded. I had been feeling my wisdom tooth coming in which I thought I could put off forever, like most things that bother me as an adult, I figure if I just ignore it, it will hop onto the shelf of other tasks I’ll put off until later like cutting my bangs or seeing if I can get a company discount on my cell phone bill.
Then I woke up and my face looked like this.
I went to my dentist, who is the best dentist I’ve had in my whole life. He’s the only one that I have ever recommended to anyone who even whispers a dentist and I jump up like a gopher thinking the coast is clear with my dentist’s name as a shriek reply. He saw my face, sent me home a prescription for pain meds and a referral for an oral surgeon to see in two days.
I went into the work the next day, partly to pick up some papers in case I was going to be out sick for a while but mostly so everyone could see me like this. I needed people to see that I wasn’t joking, that this supernova big bang in my mouth (not that kind, you dirty) was real because an email saying that I’m not feeling very well doesn’t communicate the same message as people witnessing my face as Eric Stoltz in The Mask.
At work, people gave me looks of sympathy and then, “OH MY GOD RAMONA!” And thankfully I have great coworkers and a boss who all told me to go home and get better. I was there for an hour, and then I was on my way home, to wait.
Once the doctor saw me, she scheduled my surgery for the next day and I felt like I was in a whirlwind of I have questions but I don’t know what to ask. I also had to pay a lot of this bill right then and there. Insurance covered much of it, but holy moly, I could do a lot with what was spent on my mouth. Like go to Saipan.
And the first thing I thought of when I saw the bill was, what am I going to steal in this office to make this right? Four teeth means four mugs, or four lamps–whichever I can fit in my purse. I left without committing any crimes. My bag couldn’t fit the giant TV.
This weekend has been weird pain pill induced dreams and soft foods and soft foods suck. Ice cream and milkshakes sound good, but not in a world where burgers are advertised everywhere. Crunchy layers of bacon nestled in meaty beef layers hugged by warm bread. That’s what I want. A bread hug. But I can’t because these things are DANGEROUS. What if the sesame seeds get stuck in there and then they have to remove my jaw?
What’s even more ironic is that before all this happened, I had a great Monday. I had plans! I made salads, measured out tomatoes and lettuce and walnuts and healthy things because I’m working toward a body I want and now my mouth is so delicate that I can’t even handle leaves.
The upside is that I’ve been watching Orange Is The New Black and now I can join in workplace conversations instead of saying that I don’t have access to my Netflix account because my kids use it to watch cartoons. The best part of the show has been all the prison food I can’t eat but am craving. I want a frozen waffle with something weird smeared over it! I want a turkey slice with corn! I want something that you need teeth to eat!
I’m on the mend today and thanks to the pills and TV, this is what I’ll look like when I bite into a donut. I can’t wait.