Pheealzabraces: 8 days out

So here we are, a week and a day out from the first leg of this long arduous trek. The surgery went well, and I seem to be healing well and on schedule. There was a little bit of a scare on my part about a potential dry socket on Monday and Tuesday, but it appears to be some tenderness and bacteria build up due to the medicated rinse not getting to all the places it needs to, mainly due to my paranoia about swishing too hard and flushing a graft out of one of the sockets. Slightly more vigorous rinsing and local application of the rinse to the extraction areas seems to be doing the trick.

    I have to extend my appreciation to my buddy Clint who took me to the Dentist and got me home safely in my completely zonked out state, the details of which I remember absolutely nothing until we were back at the house. My only memory after falling asleep is one of waking up (I use the term very loosely, it was at most a state of 50% consciousness) and trying to scratch my nose while feeling a tugging on my lower right jaw. After about five or six attempts, each of which was gently deterred, I gave up with a weary sigh (probably only in my head) and fell back under.

    Clint got me settled in and fed me some Cottage Cheese and a chopped up hard boiled egg (he vetoed my request for some Bacon pieces), and once I was on the couch and not bouncing up every 30 seconds, left me to my own dozing, ice pack changing and baseball/Masters watching devices. Once I got my phone unlocked (Clint texted me asking for my phone pass code after he left the office and I told him that I had the fingerprint reader set up on it for both thumbs and index fingers, then promptly turned it off once I got into the operating room – it only unlocks with the passcode on restart – try that coming out of anesthesia) I added semi coherent postings to the mix between long cat naps. I’m sure my cat Bolt was a little unsure as to what exactly was going on. Time was a rather difficult concept for me to comprehend for the rest of the day. I’d close my eyes and open them after five seconds and it would be two hours later, but getting up to get a banana and come back to sit down and eat it seemed to take 45 minutes when in actuality only 10 passed at the most. I’m also pretty sure I stood in front of the freezer touching either side of my tongue with an ice cube because I could still feel absolutely nothing on the right side at 6 PM and was getting paranoid that a nerve had gotten severed. Yay drugs.

A couple other notable milestones directly related to these current events:

I had my last beer 11 days ago.
I had my last drink 8 days ago. (I’m not inclined to interfere with the Steroids and antibiotics that I’m on if they’ll help me heal faster and not get an infection)

The beard is back. I started growing it about a week before the extraction because I figured shaving would be an unpleasant prospect. The pain never got to that level, and it’s come in about as salt and peppery as I expected (although much slower than I remember it growing in the past), but it’s also garnered a couple compliments so I’m going to let it stay for a while.

My pain threshold seems to be unusually high (just been taking 400 mg of Ibuprofen four times a day, haven’t touched the Acetaminophen that was prescribed for pain), likely as a result of the experience of the wreck and my chest surgery when I was 12.

    I was back at work Friday afternoon and several people were pretty amazed that I was up, moving, and not swollen up like Rocky Balboa after his bout with Apollo Creed. My response was a simple shrug.

I go back to see Dr. Brownfield next Friday to see how I’m healing and to hopefully determine whether the next Surgery will be the left side alone or with the prep and to schedule it.