It’s been two days since my wisdom teeth were removed, and I am still appreciating what a mercifully easy experience it’s been so far, and not without a few moments of sitcom worthy humor, as well.
Witness, my first day of recovery: in the absence of both ice packs and frozen peas in my freezer, I resorted to using a few bags of frozen blueberries to keep the swelling down. First one bag got melty, so I exchanged it for the second bag, and when the second bag got melty, I reached back into the freezer for the first.
Unfortunately, the twice frozen bag of blueberries had formed into something more like a solid block of ice than like a flexible bag of peas. Unwittingly, I crashed the bag onto the counter a few times before pressing it against my face and going back to sleep.
Fast forward a few more hours, it’s now the middle of the night: I am half asleep, sans contact lenses, and otherwise discombobulated from being slightly drugged and in pain. I creep into the bathroom and flick on the lights, to discover that the entire side of my face is bright purple, and I just about had a heart attack thinking NO ONE TOLD ME THE BRUISING WAS GOING TO BE THIS BAD !!!
I leaned squinting into the mirror and started palpitating my face, only to realize that I must have created a bunch of little holes in the bag of blueberries when I smashed it into the counter, because what I initially thought was a terrible bruise was actually blueberry juice that had leaked all over my face and was dripping down my neck!
So here I am, more than two full days after the surgery, and I still can’t seem to get my mouth open wide enough to fit an entire spoon inside. The best thing I have figured out in terms of eating solid food is to feed myself Stouffer’s macaroni and cheese by inserting one noodle at a time into my mouth and then letting it slither down my throat.
Not that I don’t love Stouffer’s macaroni & cheese, because I most certainly do: it’s just about as “old school comfort food” as you can get (and not something I indulge in very often these days, which makes it even more of a treat), but the one-noodle-at-a-time process is so painstaking that I eventually gave up after just a few tablespoons of food yesterday, the hassle of eating being more of an annoyance than a comfort.
More middle of the night comedy ensued, when, after two days of consuming almost nothing but liquids, my tummy suddenly started to rumble like Mt. Vesuvius. My cat, who was asleep on top of me, shot straight up like she’d been stuck with an electric cattle prod (and did a great job of digging her claws into my flesh in the process). One more giant rumble from my tummy, and Kayla jet out the cat door like the heavens were about to come crashing down through the roof, leaving a nice roadmap of her claws across my body.
Thankfully I am still numbed up enough with painkillers not to be particularly bothered by the rumblings in my tummy, or the bright red gashes on my skin…