Oral Surgery

Posted on February 17, 2003 in Dentition

Tomorrow at this time, I take a valium and an eryc. Lynn picks me up and we whirl down to Tustin where my periodontist will put me under so he can remove a tooth.

I get a bone graft in the deal, too.

Then for the rest of the day, I alternate between putting ice packs on my face and leaving them off, twenty minutes at a time. I’ve got vicodin on hand for the pain and more antibiotics. For that one day, I forget that I am a depressive and subject to panic attacks. I begin a week of living to spit blood and drink lots of smoothies.

I know I shall hate fruit juice when this is over.

I know the drill. Six years ago I underwent a more drastic procedure: deep cleaning. Dr. Beckstead put me under twice, so he could do each side of my mouth separately. He peeled the gums away from my teeth and scraped away the plaque which was clinging to the roots. Lynn took me home. I smiled and giggled until the next day when the pain kicked in and blood congested my spittle.

I am resigning myself to this: that every so often, for the rest of my life, I am going to suffer one of these procedures. I shall do my best, though, to minimize the personal risk.

Lynn will write progress reports until I am well enough to think again.