Medieval Torture
I've not posted anything for a while as I've been:
a) too lazy;
b) freaking out about my upcoming dental treatment;
c) recovering from said dental treatment;
d) having trouble with Blogger, grr!
But I'm back! All stitched up and ready to go! I went to the Edinburgh Dental Institute on Wednesday for my apicectomy. No, I don't know how to pronounce it either, and couldn't even if I did, as my mouth is too effing sore - root canal surgery, to you and me.
I was to be given a sedative, which did help to keep me relatively calm in the run-up to my appointment, but as soon as I got taken through into the Torture Chamber my heart was hammering away like a drum at the prospect of someone PEELING BACK MY GUM, drugs or no drugs.
The nurse took my blood pressure, weighed me (OMG how embarrassing that was! I need to lay off the chips for a while...), and then hooked me up to a wee doodah that filled the room with my booming, hypersonic pulse (as she had the volume up at max, the stupid tart). At this point the dental surgeon asked me, with a touch of irony, whether I was a little nervous... My answer, through chattering teeth, was 'Just gimme the drugs'.
She obliged - after poking me in the back of EACH HAND with a needle, presumably to find out which one elicited a better squawk from me - she injected the sedative into the wee tube, and watched me intently. After, oh, 30 seconds, I started to feel a little woozy and cross-eyed, much like I do after 2 units of alcohol. The next thing I remember (other than much pulling and pushing, and 'breathe, breathe' from the nurse) the surgeon was asking me if I was ok to stand up (at this point I was expecting them to hand me a small human, wrapped neatly in a blanket). I think she realised when she looked at me that the answer was a resounding 'nay!', as without waiting for an answer she and Nursey grabbed an arm each, and half carried me through to the recovery area.
After 5-10 mins sitting quietly with an ice pack on my face, I was asked to walk in a straight line. I did, but I had to concentrate REALLY hard. After that, I was free to go. I collapsed into bed as soon as I got home, and woke up four hours later with a face that looked like it had been hit by a bag of coins. Thankfully the swelling has now started to go down, and my face is slowly returning to it's normal size and shape.
Unfortunately, I now have ringworm on the palm of my hand, courtesy of The Fiance. After being infection free for approximately 13 hours, I think he thought I was missing playing host to tiny organisms, and donated some of his.
Um, thanks.
a) too lazy;
b) freaking out about my upcoming dental treatment;
c) recovering from said dental treatment;
d) having trouble with Blogger, grr!
But I'm back! All stitched up and ready to go! I went to the Edinburgh Dental Institute on Wednesday for my apicectomy. No, I don't know how to pronounce it either, and couldn't even if I did, as my mouth is too effing sore - root canal surgery, to you and me.
I was to be given a sedative, which did help to keep me relatively calm in the run-up to my appointment, but as soon as I got taken through into the Torture Chamber my heart was hammering away like a drum at the prospect of someone PEELING BACK MY GUM, drugs or no drugs.
The nurse took my blood pressure, weighed me (OMG how embarrassing that was! I need to lay off the chips for a while...), and then hooked me up to a wee doodah that filled the room with my booming, hypersonic pulse (as she had the volume up at max, the stupid tart). At this point the dental surgeon asked me, with a touch of irony, whether I was a little nervous... My answer, through chattering teeth, was 'Just gimme the drugs'.
She obliged - after poking me in the back of EACH HAND with a needle, presumably to find out which one elicited a better squawk from me - she injected the sedative into the wee tube, and watched me intently. After, oh, 30 seconds, I started to feel a little woozy and cross-eyed, much like I do after 2 units of alcohol. The next thing I remember (other than much pulling and pushing, and 'breathe, breathe' from the nurse) the surgeon was asking me if I was ok to stand up (at this point I was expecting them to hand me a small human, wrapped neatly in a blanket). I think she realised when she looked at me that the answer was a resounding 'nay!', as without waiting for an answer she and Nursey grabbed an arm each, and half carried me through to the recovery area.
After 5-10 mins sitting quietly with an ice pack on my face, I was asked to walk in a straight line. I did, but I had to concentrate REALLY hard. After that, I was free to go. I collapsed into bed as soon as I got home, and woke up four hours later with a face that looked like it had been hit by a bag of coins. Thankfully the swelling has now started to go down, and my face is slowly returning to it's normal size and shape.
Unfortunately, I now have ringworm on the palm of my hand, courtesy of The Fiance. After being infection free for approximately 13 hours, I think he thought I was missing playing host to tiny organisms, and donated some of his.
Um, thanks.
This entry was posted
on Friday, June 02, 2006 at 5:19 pm.
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