April 26^th Observation #7 –  Pain Sucks at any age.

Yesterday was my surgery to remove mandibular tori (un-necessary bones) in my mouth that had grown to be a big nuisance.   It seems that 7-10% of the population have them; but in most cases, they can exist without any issues.  Mine were to the point of making eating difficult; large enough in the bottom of my mouth that food would get stuck underneath them; giving me a choking sensation.  In researching, I learned that they would cut around the back of my lower teeth and peal back the skin to expose the bones, saw them out and replace the skin and stitch it back down.  Same for the growth on the outer side of my right molars.  Follow that with pain, swelling and a liquid diet for the recovery period. Needless to say, nothing any one really wants to think about having done but in my case, highly recommended.  Full recovery could take up to 4 weeks depending on the individual.   Lovely.    

After years of procrastination, I finally found a specialist and scheduled my surgery. This was back in early 2022; before Scott got sick.  As the date got closer, it turned out that Scott’s stem cell transplant got scheduled for the same week so there was no way I could do it.  Rescheduling each time meant a 6-8 month wait and I have been postponing it like this since then.  Each time letting it make me more nervous than the time before. 

Thursday, April 25^th was the day.  As our luck would have it, Scott came back from the funeral Saturday with a bug.  If it’s there, he will catch it.  I immediately began to quarantine; I could not reschedule this surgery yet again.  Doing that would certainly cause me to say it just wasn’t supposed to happen.  I would cancel for good and deal with the occasional issues.  Between Zicam and keeping my distance, I managed to ward off his cold.  Mother-in-law Bonnie offered up her shuttle service so I had a ride. 

I can’t explain or remember when it happened but some where along the way I had managed to squash my fears and take the mindset of calm.  Maybe it came from starting chair yoga this year.  Rather than losing sleep and making myself sick with worry I just blocked it out.  I was just going in for a routine cleaning or something; nothing to worry about.  No big deal.  This was particularly difficult as we sat in the waiting room for an hour.  Not only is Bonnie a good driver; she is punctual. 

The team came in on schedule.  The nurse was new and seemed uncomfortable doing the IV so the doctor did it.  It was actually rather painful so I joked that he wasn’t exactly off to a good start; with a 7 out of 10 on the IV.  My biggest fear was waking up as they were sawing away.  I told him I was willing to forget the bad IV as long as he didn’t mess up the rest of it.  I wanted all the sleepy drugs they could give.  Luckily that part was a 10 of 10.  I remember looking around a couple times but never felt a thing. 

The surgery concluded around the 2-hour mark as they estimated and after picking up some prescription mouthwash my driver had me home.  At this point, the pain was manageable with Tylenol and Advil and I wasn’t starving yet.  I’ll take that one day at a time too.  Que sera, sera.

The point of my story is that I think with age, can come calmness or peace.  Throughout life, we spend a lot of time worrying about things we can’t change or fix immediately.  As we age, I think we realize that these things are going to happen whether we worry about them or not.  If my younger self only had the wisdom to let it go and take things one day at a time, maybe I wouldn’t have a head of completely gray hair!

Post-script on Day 7. 

Post-op day one found me doing alright.  Killing it actually.  Writing stories.  I can do this.  This girl’s a rock star! Then enter post-op day number 2.  Now, who has a bad cold?  Yup, coughing until you think you will pass out. A stuffy nose.  Sinus drainage scorching down my already badly beaten tongue.  Just what I needed.  Not only do I feel like someone has been swinging me around by my tongue, I have to cough; rattling my teeth to my toes.  Wheezing like I swallowed a choir of small children. Alternating Tylenol and Ibuprofen every two hours and providing little to no relief.  I might have even tried some other drugs with little success.  Day 3 and 4 are pretty much the same.  My glands are so swollen under my chin that my neck feels as big as my thigh; if you can picture that!  So, heat on the under-chin and ice on the face.  Stitches are tied around my bottom teeth; l might just launch a new fashion trend; it looks so bad ass.   Enflamed glands and a swollen tongue provide enough pain that I can’t even tell that my teeth hurt too. 

I break down and call in on Monday only to find out that they still really don’t want to give me anything for the pain.  Reminiscent of when Scott had so much pain and they wouldn’t give him anything.  My cold is obviously hindering the healing process and they don’t think that pain killers will fix that.  Hang in there; it’ll get better they say.  I’ve learned to spoon soft foods onto my tongue and let it slide down.  Between mashed potatoes and protein shakes, I’m not starving yet.  But that reminds me.  I don’t think I’ve had any movement since the surgery.  Eating little or nothing, I forgot all about it.  Now suddenly it’s day six and it’s a problem that needs attention.  So, I take a couple Dulcolax and wait.  Six or eight hours and nothing; better take just one more.   

I’ll save you all the details but I’m sure you are anticipating this correctly.  After the cork is popped, it doesn’t stop there.  Sign me up for a colonoscopy; I’m ready for that now too.  In a weak attempt to cheer me up the other day, my friend reminded me that “at least you aren’t having to miss work”.   True; I can sit around for a week doing nothing but grimace in pain without even feeling guilty.  Which that itself is a major life change for me.  I’ve never been able to sit still, and here I am; sitting still on Day 7.  To add insult to injury, even after the unintended bowel cleanse; I have only lost five pounds.  While this experience is far from being funny; this is certainly fodder for my mantra of what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.  You can’t make this up.  And it would make great material for my favorite comedian Leanne Morgan too.  Maybe I’ll friend her on Facebook.  Right after I google home remedies for a sore tongue.  Yikes!  On second thought, that’s probably a bad idea.  I might better just go back to sucking ice cubes and watching Love Is Blind.  Living the dream.