I'm not yet a Zombie...

No matter how much you might have wanted it.

As mentioned previously, I've been having a bit of an issue with my wisdom teeth coming in. Today I had surgery to remove the problems...

I went in at 11:30am, it was just outside Downtown St. Paul, so, I got lost at first. I used to live about 10 miles from there, but it doesn't matter, I can never find my way around that city. Minneapolis is fine, I grew up enough in Mpls. that I can generally find my way around Downtown just fine, but put me in St. Paul and I get all turned around. Anyway, I made it there pretty much unscathed.

I filled out the forms they make you fill out every time you go to a new office. It's not that big of a deal, but, when you've filled out the same forms over and over with different headers and footers, it gets a little old. I sometimes think I should just make my own forms to bring with me, and then just make them fill it out themselves. "No, I've got more, everything you need is there, fill it out when you have time."

Because they planned to put me under, I wasn't allowed to eat or drink for 6 hours before. The dentist I was referred by told me this, but failed to mention that I would need someone to drive me home. Of course, I knew this, so I was fine, but it was funny to hear all the people who were completely blind sided by it, "What, I was just knocked out with a powerful anesthetic and now I'm not supposed to drive?"

So, I go into the office, where I have a bit of a Q & A session with one of the techs. As I go, I realize that this doctor has a freaking oral surgical assembly line thing going on. He has 8 rooms set up, and his appointments are staggered by about 15-30 min. He just moves from room to room doing surgery from 8 AM to 1:30 PM, then, I assume he goes home and swims through his mountains of cash.

The surgical tech asks questions, to which I reply. Things about my high blood pressure. At one point my incredible libido comes up. I explain my stalwart resistance to anesthesia.

After all of this, she leaves for a moment, and then comes back with the surgical tray and a giant bib for me. About 1 minute later the doctor comes in. He doesn't look at me, but asks the 2 techs, one of which walked in with him, what he's there to do. They tell him they're pulling 3 teeth. He looks at the X-Rays hanging behind me, and then asks me, "How old are you?" He pauses for about half a second and realizes I don't know who he is, he then says, "I'm sorry, Stephen. Dr. Mittling. How old are you?"

That's it exactly, he speaks as if he's a third party who's introducing two people in a semi-formal setting.

I answer, 26, and he says, no, we're taking two teeth, the wisdom tooth can stay, and it will likely shift into a better position once we get the infected one out.

I say, "Ok."

He walks over to the tray, and grabs an I.V. serenge, and one of techs wraps a rubber strap around my arm. The surgeon, he says, "Make a tight fist for me, you might feel a pinch. Good, now relax your hand."

He administers some of the liquid, then reaches over to the tray with one hand and grabs a black foam rubber block, he tells me to open my mouth wide, and then to bite down on the things he's just shoved into my face.

Then the first surgical tech is saying, "Time to wake up. Here, get into this chair." Which, I do, and she says, "You did good. It went well."

What I'm thinking is: are we gonna do the surgery yet?

She pushes me into a little room with plastic beds like those in a school nurses office, and helps me to lay down. I feel heavier than usual. I roll over onto my side, and taste evil in my mouth. I try to roll over the other way, and a guy in the little cubby hole of a room, apparently a little further on in his recovery, lunges forward to keep me from falling onto the floor.

About half an hour later, I've paid my down payment, received my scrip for Vicodin and I'm on my way home.

Now, the upper whole that once housed a tooth is throbbing, my whole jaw feels like I've just been in a rough fist fight, even with the Vicodin, and I need to keep gauze in my mouth to catch the oozing blood... which is really uncomfortable.

At least I didn't die and join the ranks of the undead.


Only one link... for now.


The Russkies have über boots!

These boots are in the news again. Gas power boots that can give you up to a twelve foot stride, propelling you, on foot, at up to 25 m.p.h.

Neat.

YouTube video from the first link:



WOOO!