Not so wise anymore...

Yesterday morning was somewhat a traumatic morning for me. I waited until the last possible moment, until I could put it off no further. I held out longer than each sister, but alas, the time had come. I visited the maxillofacial surgeon, Dr. Mohler (appropriate dental name, huh?) He is a very nice older man and made me feel at ease--well as much ease as one can feel before going under the drill. I felt like I was being strapped down: they put these clamp things on my arms, I assume to keep an eye on my pulse, and then the little finger-clamp thing for my pulse as well. I had a blood pressure wrap on my right arm and then the IV went in my left arm. Before the IV, came the nitrous gas. I've encountered the gas before when getting a cavity filled, so I knew what was coming. "Breathe through your nose." Okay..so I begin. Really though, it didn't have quite the "floating--whoa" feeling that everyone talks about. However, while breathing I remember Phil's story of his hysterical laughing while breathing this stuff. I started to giggle, but knew if I started, I wouldn't be able to stop, so I quickly brushed that thought out of my head and waited for the said crazy state of mind. The nurse came back in and said, "Breathe deeper, Miriam!! Deep breaths!" OHHH! so that was why I couldn't feel any effects. As I began to breathe deeper, Dr. Mohler comes in to put my IV in. The nurse prepares me, "This might hurt a little." Dr Mohler informed her that I've given blood a few times so I knew all about it. The last thing I remember hearing is, "This will put you to sleep in a few minutes." And BAM! WHAM!! One hour and four less wisdom teeth later, I hear, "Miriam, open your eyes.." I slowly opened them, because it felt like I had 2 tons of steel resting on each eyelid...I peeked them open but decided it was much better to keep them closed. The nurse returned with the wheelchair and reminded me to open my eyes again, and told me that I needed to wake up. UGH! All I wanted to do was sleep, didn't she know that!? But like an obedient patient, I got into the wheelchair. I don't remember being pushed down the hallway, in the elevator, or getting into the car. But there I was and Mom was putting a blanket on me, brushing away my tears and handing me Kleenexes. I came home and chilled the rest of the day, slurping down some chicken broth and applesauce. My first experience with Vicodin...wasn't really one to talk about; Nothing unusual really happened except I was really nauseous and at one point Phil looked like he had black make-up around his eyes. Yesterday (Day 1) was one of pain and sleep. Today (Day 2) I'm feeling much better--but much more swollen, kind of like a chipmunk collecting acorns for the winter. Hopefully the swelling will go down and I'll be able to go back to some state of normalcy this Christmas.

Merry Christmas, guys! Don't forget to thank the Father for his gracious and merciful gift: His Son. XOXO!