My trip to the oral surgeon was successful this morning. The doctor confirmed my suspicions that I had developed the dreaded dry socket (although a pretty mild case). For the sake of your eyes, don't Google image the term. The results are disturbing. In short, all that means is that my body somehow dissolved (or I dislodged) the clot that protects the spot where my wisdom tooth used to live. That pretty much leaves nothing but air between the world and my unhealed jaw bone. Jaw bones aren't used to feeling air, so that causes them to scream. Luckily, mine was merely refraining from using its inside voice by the time I got to the office.
To provide a barrier and some relief, the oral surgeon placed what looked like fine tufts of chewing tobacco in the spot that hurt. In reality it was some sort of dissolving dressing soaked in clove oil. Clove oil? Really? Amazingly, it provided instant relief that (knock on wood) is still going. The oral surgeon said it should last for a couple of days and by that time I should be healing on my own. He swore to me that people usually don't have to come back for a second round. However, one side effect of my miracle dressing is that I constantly taste cloves. It was pretty intense at first and actually made me a little nauseous, but has mellowed out over the course of the day, so I don't mind.
I was thinking this afternoon that instead of dry socket, I'll call it my Christmas socket, since it tastes like mulling spices. Maybe I'll have a glass of warm apple cider after dinner to enhance the experience. I will also raise my glass to the oil of cloves for restoring my sanity!
My my stupid, ugly, asshead wisdom tooth battle wounds started aching last night on the right side. I looked at my "What to do if..." sheet from the oral surgeon and realized that this should not be happening, especially since I've been pain free for a couple of days. I popped a super duper strength ibuprofen and tried to go to sleep as visions of my face falling off danced through my head.
I woke up this morning feeling about the same as I did last night and was actually quite pleased. I had sort of self diagnosed my condition before drifting off to sleep, which included phrases like "pain so excruciating you'll think that you're dying." Thanks internet, that will teach me for straying from the Mayo Clinic website. I called the oral surgeon this morning and scheduled a visit at the butt crack of dawn tomorrow. If it's what I think it is, he'll be able to help and I'll have immediate relief, but a longer healing process. I'm not going to mention my self diagnosis, because then you'll Google it and hate me for what you find. Boo!! I hate you wisdom teeth!
Can you tell that I'm holding off on solid foods again due to the pain? Cranky Brasilliant is back with a vengeance. I've consumed approximately three giant tubs of yogurt over the course of the week and swallowed whole a number of foods that probably are a choking hazard -- eggs, ravioli, frozen blueberries, and not-so-tiny pieces of chicken. Since I didn't feel like I was dying, just starving, I decided that I needed to take care of a few errands in preparation for our trip to Los Angeles. Given my lack of nutrition, my brain was not firing all circuits. I stopped by Kohls as a last ditch effort to try and find a black cardigan to go with the dress I made last weekend. If you've ever been to Kohls, you know that they are usually located in a strip mall. I spent quite a lot of time in the store, checking out underwear, sheets, and other things that had nothing to do with the mission at hand. I paid for my merchandise and decided to head home.
I walked to my parking spot, which was empty. I shrugged it off, thinking that maybe I just misjudged the row. I walked up and down the rows of parking spots and my car was nowhere in sight. There weren't that many, so it's not like it was tucked behind an SUV. Immediately, I started looking around, thinking that maybe I hadn't put on the parking brake and it rolled somewhere (stupid, I know). I tried to retrace my steps and realized that someone had stolen the car. I went to the bench out in front of the department store and sobbed for a good five minutes. Once I was over my self pity, I called Jesse, but he didn't answer. I didn't want to call 911 because it really wasn't an emergency, so I walked back into the store toward customer service to get the number for the local police department.
While walking through the store, I got really angry because I was going to have to take a taxi home and probably again in the morning to the oral surgeon's office at 6am. As I was fighting back tears again, this time from frustration, I saw natural light shining into the side of the store. What? A second entrance? That never happens at strip malls -- except on days when I'm emotionally unbalanced and clearly not thinking. In the end, I found my car. Just where I had parked it. I also found a rainbow, which was lovely, but seemed to be mocking me. I know, I'm nuts. I also can't wait for this week to finally end!
Right on the heels of a recent study revealing that some canned foods contain concerning levels of Bisphenol A (BPA) -- a known toxin and endocrine disruptor to humans -- I made an enchilada casserole. Half of the ingredients came from cans. What's not pictured is a giant tray of roasted acorn squash, that made up the other half of the ingredients. The name alone makes me cringe a little, but it was inspired by a local delicatessen that sold theirs at $9/pound. The delicatessen casserole was pretty tasty, mine was equally as delicious and probably cost a total of $8 (including the fresh squash).
I'm not usually one for all-out casseroles, but the soggy tortillas packed with a ton of vegetables was exactly what I needed while healing from my wisdom teeth battle wounds. When getting up enough courage to look at the spots where my teeth used to be, it was indeed a horrifying war zone. When I was a kid, my mom used scold me for a messy play area by exclaiming "Your room looks like downtown Beirut!" -- a reference that I didn't understand until much later in life. I chuckled to myself last week in the mirror (probably because of the Percocet-induced fog) and whispered a similar sentiment about the civil war that occurred in my face.
Oh yeah, back to the BPA casserole. It was an act of post-wisdom-teeth-removal desperation for anything other than smoothies or soup. It was also an effort to give my poor husband relief from my constant crankiness onset by pain and hunger. Delicious it was, photogenic it was not -- probably because I really didn't care to even try to capture it in any pleasing way. There you are. Casserole on the stove. What? I was tired after opening all of those cans. All jokes aside, I have nothing against a good casserole now and again. Some of my best dishes are essentially casseroles, like my chicken purloo and jambalaya. However, they usually all contain fresh ingredients as opposed to canned.
As for the cans, I'm pretty bummed to find out the potential hazzards. We are all aware of BPA, given the extensive media coverage over the past year or two for its presence in plastic bottles, particularly baby bottles, and the heightened risks to developing organs and for developing certain types of cancers. I never really thought that the same plastic that was lauded in water bottles might be the same wonder liner that prevents our cans from leeching gross metal flavors into food. However, I'm learning that it isn't as simple as it seems, certain processed foods lauded as "organic" and "BPA-free" packaging still contained trace amounts of the compound.
I personally rely heavily on canned tomatoes to make homemade tomato sauces during the fall and winter months. It's just one more reason for me to wonder what the hell our FDA really does anymore? It's also troubling to think about the kids who grow up in households that rely heavily on canned foods for a bulk of their vegetables, especially in areas that aren't fortunate enough to have affordable fresh markets at their disposal.
In the numerous hours I spent in bed recovering from my damned wisdom teeth, I had lots of time to think about new projects. Certainly, planning the move to our new apartment in two weeks, and writing another paper for class is not enough excitement.
My good friend, Sharon, is getting married next weekend and I was looking through my closet to figure out what to wear. The dresses that I worked on back in April and May were a little too summery -- and I already wore the green one to two different events. So, I set out to make a dress last night and managed to finish it up before dinner this afternoon. Of course, it's the same pattern that I've used before, but with an altered neckline. I couldn't help myself, it fits so well! I had to rip out the zipper twice, but it was totally worth the end result! The only part that needs work is the belt (right now the yellow buckle is just tacked to the waist) and I need to put in the hem. I also need to find a black cardigan, since it is supposed to be a little cool down in Los Angeles in the evening.
Jesse said that when paired with my silvery heels from Halloween, I looked very much like I could be on the set of Mad Men. I'll take that as a compliment.
Remember how pleased I was Tuesday with how recovery was going? Well, I could kick myself for thinking that it would be smooth sailing. Day two was much worse than day one -- the swelling, the pain, itching from the Percocet, and voila, a mild grade fever. The itching got to be so annoying that I skipped my 11am dose and was feeling pretty good, except for the fact that my skin felt like it was on fire. I stayed in bed mostly, but was so antsy by 5pm that I decided to go to class. I was also so ravenous that I had Jesse make me scrambled eggs and I gnawed at them with my front teeth like a gerbil and swallowed them whole. I also said something like "If I ever see another smoothie again, I'm going to kill myself." Jesse just looked at me and insisted that he would need a beer after dropping me off at class. As Echo would say on Dollhouse, "I was not my best" yesterday.
I got ready for class in a hurry and put on a turtleneck, scarf, and my winter jacket. About half way through class, which I really didn't want to miss because one of our state Senators was speaking, I realized that I probably had a fever. Why? Because I never took off my coat and was looking around to see who had left open that drafty window. Also, by then, my pain medication had fully worn off and I was a basket case, shivering and in pain. Jesse drove me home from class, I took my medication and sort of sobbed myself to sleep. I also told him that his presence was highly annoying, and begged that he go to a concert rather than stay home with me to wait out the pain. Again, not my best yesterday and am not all that crazy about the way I behaved.
I woke up this morning around 5am in a little pain, so I took all of my medication again according to schedule. Also, the pecan that I was hiding in my left cheek yesterday is officially a chestnut. My "take home patient instructions" from the oral surgeon promises that today is the last day that my swelling should get worse. My fever is gone, though, so that is a huge relief. I feel like a new person, actually.
I have a site visit this afternoon for a potential job with that architectural firm that periodically hires me for consulting work. Not ideal timing for sure, but you know how that goes. (Also, now that I've told the internet that I have a potential job, it will likely crash and burn.) The site visit is informal, just to meet the project team and drive around the town that we'll potentially survey, which is near Salem. Thankfully, my supervisor is driving, because the only way you'd get your mitts on my Percocet is if you pried the pills away from my cold dead hands. I've learned my lesson, no need to be a hero. I just need to ride the itchy wave of pain relief until day 4 or 5 (when everything should be a lot better).
After five and a half years in D.C., Jesse and I packed our things and moved across the country. It's not been easy, but I'm having fun starting a new life in Portland, OR.
Finding a full-time job in my field has been a bit harder than expected. As a result, I have more free time to spend crafting, experimenting in the kitchen, and blogging about my adventures.
This summer I'm heading back to school and contemplating a new career direction. I'm excited for the challenge!
To provide a barrier and some relief, the oral surgeon placed what looked like fine tufts of chewing tobacco in the spot that hurt. In reality it was some sort of dissolving dressing soaked in clove oil. Clove oil? Really? Amazingly, it provided instant relief that (knock on wood) is still going. The oral surgeon said it should last for a couple of days and by that time I should be healing on my own. He swore to me that people usually don't have to come back for a second round. However, one side effect of my miracle dressing is that I constantly taste cloves. It was pretty intense at first and actually made me a little nauseous, but has mellowed out over the course of the day, so I don't mind.
