Wednesday I had some minor surgery teeth yanked out of my jaw, 4 wisdom, 1 molar to match the last molar removed. This time I made the appointmet with a real dentist and it made all the difference.

The dentist made it clear she wouldn’t pull the 5 teeth without me being under conscious sedation. For a multitude of reasons, I would’ve preferred not to have done it. Not the least of which being that I couldn’t nurse Ben for 2 days since they were giving me Valium the night before and Halcion the day of. Of course, there was also the worry that I’d have a reaction or, more worrysome, say something completely embarassing that I wouldn’t even remember. I nearly cancelled more than a few times.

Luckily, on Tuesday I had the bright idea to talk to a lactation consultant. Two, in fact. They both said, since Ben was older and therefore more able to metabolize the medication, there was no real need to pump and dump since the medication was not for prolonged use. They both said, to be safe, I could P&D immediately after the surgery but he should be fine otherwise. I’d just have a sleepy baby on my hands. I didn’t, by the way, have a sleepy baby at all during that period. I’m very glad I didn’t avoid nursing him for those two days.

I took all 3 pills as described before getting into the office. I was a little loopy but no where near sedated. The first hour and a half in the doctor’s office consisted of me being given 4 more doses of the meds, continuous turning up of the nitrous and the doctor popping in to ask how I was doing. The response? “Well, she’s still lucid.”

About the 4th time the doctor came in, she finally gave me “the talk”. Since I wasn’t becoming sedated, maybe they should wait. She must’ve seen the horrified look on my face because she ended with, “Well, unless you feel okay with us trying to go ahead with it.” Yes, yes, go ahead! I wanted it over with.

I felt the first few shots and lucid enough to remember the first 3 teeth being pulled. As time went on, I was getting drowsier and drowsier. I remember, after pulling the first tooth, she said, “There! It’s out!”
“Really?”
“Yup. Are you okay?”
“Okay? I’m wonderful! I didn’t even feel that!”
Apparently, I talk like a 1950’s commercial when I’m sedated.

All went well. I don’t remember much of it. I don’t remember walking into the house, don’t remember getting in the car, don’t even remember pumping afterwards, although Eric said I did it by myself. I’m swollen and sore but I no longer have the pain in my ear which alone makes it all worth it.

If there’s one very important thing I’ve learned from this, it’s to teach Ben to take very good care of his teeth. Especially if he remains allergic to dairy like his grandfather and I. Well, that and that I can pump without even being remotely lucid. That has to be some kind of bankable talent.

My worst fears come to light. Tuesday I went to the dentist after 2 weeks of pain that just would not disappear on it’s own, as it should have. It turns out, after three years of having 1/3 of a tooth missing, the nerve was finally dying and really, really unhappy about it. Apparently, I also had an infection running throughout. Joy!

After spending over 4 hours there, being told my impacted wisdom tooth was causing major decay – and therefore major pain – to the tooth in front of it (but they could only deal with the tooth with the hole in it, not the other two, because they only deal with one tooth at a time for insurance reasons), it took the dentist nearly 30 minutes to get the sucker out. A sore arm and quite a few extra shots of Novicaine later, I was missing a tooth with roots that apparently went down to my arm pit. I was also not at all proven incorrect about my “irrational” fear of dentists. They really are evil.

My favorite conversation of the day was as follows:
Dentist-like Creature (henceforth known as DLC): We’ll deal with the one with the hole. Your other one will require a lot of pulling to get around the tooth growing around it. It might crack the bone.
Me: Why’d you have to tell me that?
DLC: As opposed to what?
Me: I don’t know. As opposed to fairies are going to come down and magically remove my tooth and pain.
DLC:…Well, it’d require a lot of work with the other one. But the one with the hole? Fairies are going to drop fairy dust on it and it’ll come out.
Me: Thanks.

While I consider myself a sarcasm connoisseur, it’s lost on me when coming from someone who is about to shove a needle in my mouth and forcibly rip something out of bone. Call me crazy.

It started a month ago with a little bump on the bottom left front tooth area of the gum, followed by another about 1/8th of an inch away from it. Then, there were little white tips and we thought, “Any day now!” 2.5 weeks and a very, very horrible night later, Ben awakens me with his usual “Eh!” while trying to rip my lips off. He shoves my knuckle in his mouth and, while trying to shake it viciously in an attempt to break it’s neck, I feel something rough and sharp that wasn’t there before. After fighting for 10 minutes for him to stop laughing and covering his gum with his tongue when I pull down his bottom lip, I see it. A TOOFER! THE CHILD HAS A FULLY ERUPTED TOOFER!