Well, yesterday was the big day. After looking at the X-rays, the oral surgeon strongly suggested that I have all four wisdom teeth out, rather than just two; the other two were severely impacted, and one of them was weakening my lower jaw. He said it was very close to a major nerve, so there was the chance that it might be bruised during the removal, resulting in a permanently numbed lip — which, I suppose, is better than a glass jaw.

So he gave me a prescription for three Valium pills, and told me to go take them immediately and come back. I got to the pharmacy, gave the pharmacist my prescription, and he said "Okay, that'll be about an hour." For three lousy pills?! While I was trying to frame a tactful response, Karen (who was there because I wasn't going to be able to drive myself home after the procedure) said "He needs them now! He's having his wisdom teeth pulled, and we have to get back to the oral surgeon!" He glared at her, and said "Well, have a seat. I can't promise anything." Freaking tinpot dictator.

We got the pills about ten minutes later, and then back to the dentists' office. I told Karen to give me her cellphone and go back home until it was all over (no sense in her waiting around with nothing to do). As I sat in the waiting room reading American Gods, I didn't really feel any effect from the Valium except that when I looked out the window, I couldn't focus my eyes on distant objects.

Eventually, they came for me and put me in The Chair. They put the N₂O mask over my nose, and told me to breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth. This I found difficult, because the way the hoses were arranged, the mask was pressing against my right nostril, closing it off — and I was partially congested, so the only nostril I could breathe in through was the right one. I remember that throughout the procedure, I kept trying to adjust it, which didn't make them too happy. They injected Novocaine and went away to give it time to work.

While I was waiting, with nobody else in the room, I pulled out my PDA and started making notes. I reproduce them here verbatim.

The first sentence was a response to my uncontrollable giggling, which didn't last too long. At one point, I realized that I hadn't breathed in a while, so I forced myself to breathe. I wrote the last sentence because I was finding it very difficult to make the proper letter shapes, but when I saw misspellings, I went back and corrected them. Ironically, I misspelled anæsthetic. Apparently, I wasn't too concerned with capitalization, however.

Then I felt myself going really loopy from all the drugs, and I put my PDA away. Some time later (I don't know how long), I found myself completely "sober". The thought of going through the procedure like that was terrifying, so I tried to write a note to the oral surgeon:

The next-to-last line was a stream-of-consciousness intrusion into my attempts to communicate; while I was writing, one of the nurses came in and saw me scratching away at the PDA, and said to one of her co-workers, "Oh, look — he's trying to do work even in the dentist's chair!" Anyway, when the oral surgeon came in, I held it out to him and tapped the screen. He read it, adjusted the nose mask, and said something along the lines of "Well, just breathe through your nose for a few minutes." Alone again, I continued writing.

It's true about the déjà vu; many of the things I was seeing and hearing had been images in my dreams for quite some time. Of course, this got me panicked, because I thought perhaps I was going to die in the chair, and these flashes of déjà vu had been warnings (apparently, I'm less of a skeptic about things like ESP when I'm drugged). Then I thought that perhaps I was still having my root canal done, and that everything since then was merely a dream I'd had in the chair. This prompted me to write:

The bit about the stain on the ceiling tile was because it had been a frequently recurring image in my dreams. I don't know how I remembered the current date, because I can never remember what the date is. Anyway, I thought, "If I'm still having the root canal done, maybe I can warn myself about the September 11 attacks." It didn't occur to me that I didn't even have my PDA before September 11, nor that something written in a dream probably wouldn't translate into the real world. Eh, but at least I tried.

Anyway, after that, they were ready to begin, so they took my PDA away. I have only vague memories of most of the procedure; I remember two out of the four extractions ("Now, you're going to hear a crunching noise, and you'll feel a pushing sensation."), and I remember opening my eyes and seeing the oral surgeon drawing a suture upwards. I also remember wanting to write something down, reaching for my PDA and finding the case empty, and the surgeon telling me "It's all right, we put it back there for you."

I drifted off for a while, and when I came too, a nurse was cementing my crown back in (apparently it had come off during the procedure). He said a bunch of things to me, but I was already drifting away again.

After it was all over, I remember pulling out the cellphone and trying to email a text message to Karen. At first, it rejected the message, because I'd somehow added an underscore after her email address, so I was trying again when the orderly came to take me up to the front desk. While I was paying, I remembered that the plan was just to call, even if I couldn't speak, because she'd see the phone number on the caller ID and know it was time to come pick me up.

They gave me a list of things to do (and acceptable foods), and a prescription for Vicodin. Unfortunately, the Vicodin doesn't seem to be doing much, because I'm still in excruciating pain. I can only open my mouth about a finger's width, and I'm very swollen under the jaw (and swallowing is very difficult). I'm told that this will probably last a few days, so on the bright side, maybe I can lose a few pounds. I slept about thirteen hours last night, but I still feel tired. I can't concentrate well (this entry has taken me over an hour to write), but at least the worst part is over.

When I took the gauze out of my mouth, I discovered that I couldn't close my jaw; the only point of contact was between my crown and the tooth above it. So I called the oral surgeon and asked if that was normal; he told me to come back in and they would fix it. Well, they couldn't get it off, so they ground the porcelain off the top, so I could at least get some contact between the other teeth, and I've got to go back in four weeks so they can make a new crown for me — but at least that'll be free of charge.

I was supposed to be teaching three classes at an SCA event this weekend, but the surgeon told me to take a few days off from work, and not speak (unless absolutely necessary) until the gums have healed. So I had to cancel my classes, which makes me feel really bad.