Chipmunk Charlie
Chipmunk Charlie
My poor baby. He got two impacted wisdom teeth and a molar extracted yesterday. He told me to tell Tuna Girl that he commiserates, although he knows her situation was and is A LOT more difficult than his. The oral surgeon says this should have been done 15 years ago. We knew that, it's just that insurance only goes so far and when you've got three teenagers who weren't blessed with beautiful teeth (HIS side of the family), orthodontia for the masses doesn't come cheap and takes up all your funds. Deductibles alone for three sets of braces nearly put us in the poor house. The parental units, in this case, are always last. I chose not to tell the doctor that I hadn't visited the dentist since my son was 14 months old. I know, I know. I won't even tell you how long its been since my last "girl parts" checkup.
The procedure itself didn't take long. It was the waiting. And the listening to patients preceeding him coming out of anesthesia. One of which was a 16 year old girl whose father was sitting with us in the waiting room. I guess no one warned him about the aftereffects of post-op anesthesia on some people. That poor little girl's crying and screaming nearly put the poor dad into orbit. Knowing how it worked, we tried to comfort him, but the cries of his poor child was overwhelming and finally he asked if they would just take him to her (which they should have done much sooner.) The mommy in me felt for him. And for her. I know when I had my wisdom teeth out when I was 19, I too, woke up hysterical. The whole scene reminded me of the waiting room of "Orin Scrivello, D.D.S." in "Little Shop" or even the Aussie dentist in "Finding Nemo."
When they finally came to take Charlie in, he turned and said to me with a big smile, "If I wake up crying and you tell anyone, I'll deny it." We laughed, he left, and I started to knit. This turned out to be a nice business boon, since I took two orders for scarves from the receptionist. An hour later, they came and told me I could go see my husband and that I should try to keep him awake. Having been with this man for nearly 25 years, I already knew what I was going to find. Charlie tends to think he's a stand-up comedian when he comes out of anesthesia. Frightfully, the medical staff all think he's either hilarious, or pathetic. Either way, they were all laughing when I got into the recovery room.
The oral surgeon asked me if he was always like this and if he was, life is probably never boring. I nodded. Yes, this is the man who, when he went in for a colonoscopy, found out that his internist was an avid golfer and put a post it note on his ass that said "19th hole". I could hear the laughter from the waiting room. This is the man who, when he had a vasectomy, refused valium because he wanted to watch the procedure to make sure the urologist didn't "snip" anything he wasn't supposed to. The doctor told him he shouldn't worry, but if he was concerned I would get pregnant after this procedure, then we wouldn't have to pay for his services. "Pregnant?" says Charlie. "Mister, right now, that's the least of my fucking worries....literally!" No, it's never boring.
When I sat down next to my groggy, gauze-packed hubby, his first words were; "Ah gueth a beer ith out of the quethtion?" Yeah Honey, completely out of the question right now. I sat next to him as he asked me the same questions over and over for 20 minutes, listened to the post-op aftercare spiel from the nurse, and then, armed with a load of fresh, sterile gauze and a prescription for Amoxicillan and Vicodin (YAY!), took my baby home. He told me he loved me 40 or so times and then asked me if he told me he loved me lately. I got a play by play account of the time he smashed his face into the ground by doing an endo over the handlebars of his bike when he was 13, AGAIN. And then the "Did you hear the one about....." started. If I hear about Rastus and Lulabelle ONE MORE TIME, I'm going to take the damn Vicodin myself. No, the gauze in his mouth DOES NOT keep him from talking. Still, I rubbed his arm, laughed at his stale jokes, helped him to bed, and kissed his forehead as he said "I luff ewww Babeeee."
I luff ewww too Honey. Chipmunk cheeks and all.
My poor baby. He got two impacted wisdom teeth and a molar extracted yesterday. He told me to tell Tuna Girl that he commiserates, although he knows her situation was and is A LOT more difficult than his. The oral surgeon says this should have been done 15 years ago. We knew that, it's just that insurance only goes so far and when you've got three teenagers who weren't blessed with beautiful teeth (HIS side of the family), orthodontia for the masses doesn't come cheap and takes up all your funds. Deductibles alone for three sets of braces nearly put us in the poor house. The parental units, in this case, are always last. I chose not to tell the doctor that I hadn't visited the dentist since my son was 14 months old. I know, I know. I won't even tell you how long its been since my last "girl parts" checkup.
The procedure itself didn't take long. It was the waiting. And the listening to patients preceeding him coming out of anesthesia. One of which was a 16 year old girl whose father was sitting with us in the waiting room. I guess no one warned him about the aftereffects of post-op anesthesia on some people. That poor little girl's crying and screaming nearly put the poor dad into orbit. Knowing how it worked, we tried to comfort him, but the cries of his poor child was overwhelming and finally he asked if they would just take him to her (which they should have done much sooner.) The mommy in me felt for him. And for her. I know when I had my wisdom teeth out when I was 19, I too, woke up hysterical. The whole scene reminded me of the waiting room of "Orin Scrivello, D.D.S." in "Little Shop" or even the Aussie dentist in "Finding Nemo."
When they finally came to take Charlie in, he turned and said to me with a big smile, "If I wake up crying and you tell anyone, I'll deny it." We laughed, he left, and I started to knit. This turned out to be a nice business boon, since I took two orders for scarves from the receptionist. An hour later, they came and told me I could go see my husband and that I should try to keep him awake. Having been with this man for nearly 25 years, I already knew what I was going to find. Charlie tends to think he's a stand-up comedian when he comes out of anesthesia. Frightfully, the medical staff all think he's either hilarious, or pathetic. Either way, they were all laughing when I got into the recovery room.
The oral surgeon asked me if he was always like this and if he was, life is probably never boring. I nodded. Yes, this is the man who, when he went in for a colonoscopy, found out that his internist was an avid golfer and put a post it note on his ass that said "19th hole". I could hear the laughter from the waiting room. This is the man who, when he had a vasectomy, refused valium because he wanted to watch the procedure to make sure the urologist didn't "snip" anything he wasn't supposed to. The doctor told him he shouldn't worry, but if he was concerned I would get pregnant after this procedure, then we wouldn't have to pay for his services. "Pregnant?" says Charlie. "Mister, right now, that's the least of my fucking worries....literally!" No, it's never boring.
When I sat down next to my groggy, gauze-packed hubby, his first words were; "Ah gueth a beer ith out of the quethtion?" Yeah Honey, completely out of the question right now. I sat next to him as he asked me the same questions over and over for 20 minutes, listened to the post-op aftercare spiel from the nurse, and then, armed with a load of fresh, sterile gauze and a prescription for Amoxicillan and Vicodin (YAY!), took my baby home. He told me he loved me 40 or so times and then asked me if he told me he loved me lately. I got a play by play account of the time he smashed his face into the ground by doing an endo over the handlebars of his bike when he was 13, AGAIN. And then the "Did you hear the one about....." started. If I hear about Rastus and Lulabelle ONE MORE TIME, I'm going to take the damn Vicodin myself. No, the gauze in his mouth DOES NOT keep him from talking. Still, I rubbed his arm, laughed at his stale jokes, helped him to bed, and kissed his forehead as he said "I luff ewww Babeeee."
I luff ewww too Honey. Chipmunk cheeks and all.
posted by Pua; Bakin' and Tendin' Bar | 8:52 AM
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