From the time I'm writing this {March 3, 2021}, I had my wisdom teeth pulled just yesterday, which means this is day 2 of taking care of myself post-op. I have not fully recovered from my surgery yet {recovery is expected to take 3-7 days}, but the worst part {except for the inevitable swelling that's supposed to peak on day 3} has passed. Therefore, I am writing this summary of my experience with the surgery.

First of all, wisdom teeth generally begin to show on a person's X-rays between the ages of 14-17, and they are usually pulled in people ages 18-23 for various reasons {but I had mine pulled about a month before I turn 17}. Some people have no problem with their wisdom teeth and they don't need to get pulled, but for millions of people that is not the case. Typically, unless the problem is severe, by age 30 if a person has not had their wisdom teeth removed they will generally never get them removed. This is because by this age they are extremely difficult to pull because they've had years to grow.

One of the most common reasons for wisdom teeth to get removed is because a person simply has no room for them to grow, and they become impacted. This means that the wisdom teeth grow at an angle instead of straight up. This angle could poke into other teeth, go out of the gums sideways, or even completely upside-down in rare cases {in my case, two were poking teeth and two were going sideways}. Sometimes impacted teeth are only able to partially erupt {meaning part of the teeth break the surface of the gums and become visible while another part stays under the gums}, and sometimes they are unable to erupt whatsoever, meaning they stay under the surface of the gums {mine could not erupt}. A few complications that can arise from impacted wisdom teeth include pain, bleeding, swelling, trouble opening the jaw, and more.

Wisdom teeth can be pulled in many ways, but typically some kind of sedative or anesthesia is used. This could be nitrous oxide {also known as laughing gas}, local anesthesia {Novocaine is the most common example of this}, general anesthesia, or possibly something else. If laughing gas is used during the procedure, it's typically administered through a tube that goes into a person's nostrils. It makes a person generally unaware of their surroundings and is called laughing gas because it tends to cause people to literally laugh. Local anesthesia numbs the area the surgery is being performed on {in this case, the mouth}, and this is administered via shot. General anesthesia can be administered through a mask, but to my knowledge it's much more common to have this done through an IV.

Okay, now that I've given that background information, I can talk about my personal experience with my surgery instead of sounding like Google.

I was supposed to have mine pulled Monday, March 1 under local anesthesia, but when I showed up they told me that after re-evaluating my X-rays they would only pull my wisdom teeth under general anesthesia because they were very badly impacted. I was told I'd have to reschedule, and my dad decided to let me reschedule. My options were the next day {March 2} at 6 AM, or wait all the way until April 27. I chose March 2 at 6 AM because my wisdom teeth were causing so much pain I often refused to talk, eat, open my mouth, etc. I was taking so many over-the-counter painkillers, but they were doing very little for my pain other than taking off the edge sometimes.

I was told that I would have to start fasting and not eat or drink anything whatsoever after 8 PM that night. I'd already known that you can possibly die if you have food or water in your system when you go under general anesthesia, but I learned the morning of that you can die because you will puke it up in your sleep and choke on your own vomit. Well, I'm glad I followed my fasting orders to a T. I actually remember feeling thirsty that night and checking the clock, but it said 8:15 PM and I told myself, "Sorry, you're gonna have to wait until after your surgery to get a drink."

On the actual day of the surgery, the doctor and anesthesiologist met with my dad and I in a little room to discuss my surgery a little bit. They mostly confirmed the details with us, and the anesthesiologist made me open my mouth and stick out my tongue at him and then tilt my head as far back as I could. Not sure why, but I guess that was medically relevant. The anesthesiologist then asked me how much I weighed so he would know how much anesthesia to give me, then he told me to empty my coat pockets. I had too much stuff in my pockets, so we decided it'd be easier if I took my coat off altogether and left it with my dad. The anesthesiologist then told my dad to wait in the waiting room and lead me back to the operating room, where the surgeon was waiting for us.

The first thing I noticed was that there were several tools and equipment on the floor, and I even commented about how scary it was. The anesthesiologist kind of laughed at me and told me it was less scary than it looked, and asked me to sit in the dentist chair. I'm not sure if they did this just because I'm deathly afraid of IVs or if they do this to all patients, but before I was put under they made me inhale laughing gas through a mask that covered both my mouth and nose. They told me to take deep breaths, so I did. I was also asked to hold up my hand and put it into a fist as hard as I could while the anesthesiologist put in my IV, so I did that too. I was still terrified of the IV, but the gas kind of made me feel heavy and I was too 'out of it' to properly show that I was scared, except for my very common nervous tick of laughter. The anesthesiologist took that as a sign I was feeling fine and said, "See? You're laughing!"

I wanted to strangle him after he said that, but I couldn't really do that.

The anesthesiologist told me that I'd feel a burning sensation, and my hand felt wet and my throat started to kind of burn. The next thing I knew, I woke up in a wheelchair before they could even finish transporting me to a recovery room. I kind of "woke up twice," and that's because I didn't actually remember when I truly woke up until several hours later. For a few hours, I was missing like 5 minutes of my memory without realizing it.

Before I 'regained' my memory, I just remembered waking up with my coat back on and wondering who put it on me, and then immediately trying to stand up and being pushed back into the wheelchair by somebody.

There was more to the story than that.

When I actually woke up about five minutes prior, I was REALLY cold and I saw somebody I vaguely recognized as my dad holding a coat that I didn't even recognize as my own. I just knew that I was cold and coats are supposed to warm people up, so I reached for the coat in my dad's hands. He gave it to me, and I was having some really horrible hand-eye coordination because I couldn't even get my hands in the sleeves and I barely even realized I couldn't get my hands in the sleeves. My dad had to help me get my hands through the sleeves, and then I tried to zip up my coat. It wouldn't zip up no matter how hard I pulled on the zipper, so my dad had to zip it up for me too.

When I told my dad about 'regaining' that memory and asked him about his perspective, it turned out the zipper I'd been trying to zip up was actually my pocket zippers that were already zipped up. Apparently he tried to tell me that in the moment, but I don't remember him saying anything.

Luckily I was only loopy for a few minutes, and somebody {from their voice I assume a female} wheeled me to my dad's car while he followed and guided them to his car. I couldn't really get up on my own because I was still really dizzy, so my dad had to pretty much pick me up and help me into my seat as well as help me get my seatbelt on.

My dad drove home after that because the pharmacy wouldn't be open for a few hours {I'd been prescribed Vicodin and an antibiotic I still don't even know how to pronounce or spell- the Vicodin for the pain and the antibiotic to help prevent infection}, and I don't think he wanted to sit in the car with somebody with their mouth stuffed full of gauze and too numb to even speak. I kept asking my dad questions like, "How long was I out? Did they put stitches in?" and I had to type it all out on my phone because I was too numb to speak. I was too numb to swallow my own spit or even realize that there was spit in my mouth.

When my dad and I got home, he had to basically support my body weight and verbally guide me {like, "Okay, there's the porch steps. Step one... and step two!"} inside, and then he told me I could either go to my room or the couch. I was too tired to go to my room, so I plopped down on the couch where I'm still temporarily residing.

I kept having to type out everything I wanted to say for several hours, and it wasn't until about 11:00 AM that I could finally speak because the bleeding slowed enough that my dad and I both agreed I could take out the gauze for good {and thank goodness, changing the gauze was a nightmare because I couldn't feel or see what I was doing so my dad had to do that for me too with a long pair of tweezers}. I also had to spit out a HUGE mouthful of blood, but since spitting a lot isn't good because it can cause dry socket {where the blood clot gets removed and exposes the bare jaw bone- typically it's described as the worst pain ever felt and prescription painkillers are said to do nothing for the pain} I mostly just let the blood dribble to the front of my mouth and had gravity do the rest for me. After my mouth was clear of gauze and blood, I could start talking, but it sounded kind of funny since I was still numb on my bottom lip.

An hour later I managed to drink some water and eat some yogurt, and my dad had finally run to the pharmacy and got my prescriptions so I took the antibiotic and some Vicodin because I was starting to literally scream in pain as the numbness wore off {they apparently administer Novocaine to all general anesthesia patients, so that's why I was numb}. After I finished eating and taking my pills, I sat on my couch until the Vicodin started taking effect and I got really drowsy and dizzy. My vision also got kind of blurry... and I also got pretty high. I can now confirm that bipolar manic episodes feel like being high on drugs with just a few differences, namely that manic highs create energy while drug highs make you feel heavy and tired.

I told my dad I was probably high and he just said that was expected since it was my first time taking Vicodin {he actually has a prescription for Vicodin himself, so he knows what it's like}. My dad told me to take a nap, so I did since I was really drowsy and I woke up no longer feeling high. The painkilling effects lasted for a lot longer than any other medication I've taken {until about 5-6 PM}, so that part was nice. Resistance to painkillers and other substances kind of runs in my family, so people in my family typically have to take more medicine for the same effect somebody else gets {and that's probably also why I woke up so quickly after my surgery, apparently when my dad got his wisdom teeth pulled when he was 18 he also woke up before they even got him to the recovery room}. Because I'm so used to painkillers doing basically nothing for me, I was really happy it actually did something useful.

After the Vicodin wore off, I wasn't in enough pain to take more medicine of any kind {not even Advil}, so I just laid on the couch on my phone for a while. My dad made me some soup that was mostly broth and otherwise only contained onions, and I managed to eat about half of the soup until my mouth hurt too badly so my dad told me to stop eating. I put more ice on my cheeks after that and then once it was getting late, I scrubbed my bottom retainer really good, put it in my mouth, and went to bed. I'm not supposed to brush my teeth for a while, which is why I didn't do that. I only put in my bottom retainer because it doesn't reach all the way back to my gums and my bottom teeth move a lot more than my top teeth. I could probably get away without my top retainer for a couple of days and that retainer reaches all the way back to my gums, so I skipped the top retainer.

I woke up the next day {aka today} with my cheeks swollen up a lot, and my friend said I look like a hamster. I've been using lots of ice like I did yesterday, and I also had to take more Vicodin {and another antibiotic} because I sounded like a zombie with how much I was groaning in pain. It's been about an hour and a half since I took my medicine, and I'm not high this time, but the pain still went down so hooray! I like it when the side effects go away.

And... well... that's essentially my story so far with my adventure of getting my wisdom teeth pulled. I plan to be back in school next week on Monday, and I hope that I have a swift recovery from my surgery.