Simon...Theodore...Alvin...Grant

It's been almost 48 hours since I had my third molars sliced-n'-diced out of my mouth. I've taken 10 Hydrocodone over the last 48 hours. Everything is nice and dream-like...except for my mouth. It feels like I was punched in the jaw repeatedly. The first day I thought, "Oh, I don't look so bad! In fact, you can hardly tell I had anything done!" But now, well...just look and see for yourself:



Note:
Eyes - Glazed over from pain-killer-induced state of lesser pain.
Cheeks - Strangely deformed into what I assume I would look like if I were fat.
Cheekbones - Somewhat nonexistent.
Smile - Lacking...well, that's just because I can't really smile without it hurting.

And just to put some icing on the cake, I considered the possibility that only I would notice a big difference until I ran into my friend Carly at Blockbuster. I mentioned my cheeks and she said, "Oh, I thought you were chewing on something really big." Then she followed that up with a text that said, "You don't look THAT fat." Heh...sigh.

Losing Some Wisdom


I went to an oral surgeon today for a consultation. After a panorama x-ray I was placed in a small room where I was told to watch an informative video which looked like it was made in the early 80's. I learned the technical phrase 'soft tissue impaction' before the doctor showed me a $75 picture of my teeth. Apparently I don't have upper wisdom teeth, which is nice. I set up a time to go in and get knocked out. I'll wake up an hour or so later with a sore jaw and lack of ability to eat anything harder than yogurt. And I'll be paying someone over $1,000 for this. Probably the only cool thing about it all is the creepy picture I got of my x-ray. I considered asking if I could keep it, but I don't think they would have let me. So...if anyone sees me during the week of July 23rd, please don't punch me in the jaw.