Wisdom Teeth…Who Needs "Em?

Sitting in the waiting room awaiting Amy's turn, I observed five of its occupants, three of whom were on their call phones. See Exhibit A. On the wall there is a sign pertaining to their particular use. See Exhibit B

Exhibit B

Exhibit A

Besides the cell phone warning and a new location, much was the same as 17 years ago when I was here to have my wisdom teeth extracted (if that' not a horrible word, I don't know what is.) Today it's Amy's turn as part of her orthodontic journey to pearly white perfection. Seriously, who would've thought that teeth could be so troublesome?

On a side note, Ryan came along with us. He wasn't playing hooky from school, but had his own appointment in the morning and is now on antibiotics for an ear infection. He must have been feeling a little better as he spent part of his time here searching for copper. He found exactly one penny. Then, exhausted from the treasure hunt, he read his book for a while before leaning against my arm and sleeping for 45 minutes.

At 3:34pm, a staff member came out and told us it would be a few minutes and then we could go back with Amy. All went well.

Big sigh of relief from Mama.

Ryan just stretched and blinked sleepily like an owl awoken too soon from his slumber.



I would've video'd Amy or at least taken a picture of her at this just-after-surgery-and-coming-out-of-anesthesia moment, but there was another sign. I didn't even feel right taking out my phone to take a picture of just the sign. Because it was underlined and in bold print this time. To protect the privacy of staff and patients, it said.

Let's just say that Amy looked even more sleepy than a heavy-lidded owl and with two large rolls of gauze sticking out of her mouth, all I could think of was "walrus". A very cute, lovable walrus, but walrus nonetheless. She didn't think that was funny. And when I tried to wake her a little more, she would lift an arm in slow-motion to bat me away. Poor girl.

We got Wobbly to the car and made it home without any oddness. She was thirsty though. I had some water in the car and had offered it to her. She declined. You know, all that gauze in her cheeks would just soak it up. Gross.

So I drank it. Almost all of it except for a just a smidgen. This I offered her again, just in case. This time she wanted it, but the sight of her tipping the bottle completely up trying to shake down the few drops…too funny.

Hey, I was thirsty too. And she did decline the first time. So, I got her a blue Gaterade.

Home again and so far, so good. She looked much better. Much, much better. See Exhibit C

Exhibit C

 Then she took her pain pill, her antibiotic and ate an entire box of Cheesecake Pudding and went to sleep. They always look sweet when they sleep; it doesn't matter how old they get, there is just something so endearing about your child sleeping. See Exhibit D

Exhibit D

And today? She was up, no noticeable swelling, no real pain, and she went to school. Supergirl. She hid her cape in her book satchel. Oh to be young. 

Love,

Dianne