How I Spent My Winter Vacation
Wow, been a little while, huh?
So I had my wisdom tooth taken out earlier this month. Just one though, in the bottom left slot. Turns out the one on the right doesn't exist and the two on the top are just too puny to be bothered with right now.
I haven't been famously great with decision-making, so it was a tough one when they asked me how I wanted to be sedated. There's general anesthesia, an IV drip, and nitrous. Then, for those of us whose last name is Hulk, first name "The Incredible," there's the novocaine-only option. Wikipedia told me there's a 1 in 350,000 chance of dying under general, so that was out, because I'm pretty sure I'm one in a million, and would hate to have to die three times to prove it. (That's how odds work, right?)
The IV drip had too much in common with Rocky IV, so I had to pass on that too.
Nitrous, on the other hand, is awesome.
1. It makes cars go faster.
2. It makes whipped cream more delicious.
3. It provides key plot points to Little Shop of Horrors.
And at $125 it was cheaper than the other options that didn't require an excess of Hulkitude. Sold.
So I was feeling pretty good about my choice when I sat down in the dentist's chair early on a Thursday morning to have my tooth yanked. At my parents' suggestion I filled up my iPod with an appropriate playlist.
An Appropriate Playlist for Someone About to be Tripping on Nitrous
1. Novocaine for the Soul - Eels
2. Cocaine - Eric Clapton
3. Burn One Down - Ben Harper
4. The Theme to Cheers
So I listened to the songs and waited... and waited. There was an LCD screen in front of me cycling through a powerpoint of nature photos with cheesy inspirational quotations and horrific before and after shots of various elective dental procedures. I started thinking about the slim chance that I could die during the wisdom tooth extraction, and I realized how sad it would be if those pictures were the last things I ever saw, and those tacky sayings about hard work were the last thing I ever read. In the corner I saw a copy of US Weekly from May and started reading it.
I immediately regretted the possibility that now Lindsey Lohan's before-and-after diet shots could be the last things that I saw and that the phrase "baby bump" could be the last words that I read.
After a sickening 20-minute binge on celebrity gossip, the hygienist told me that their supplier forgot to drop off any oxygen. Turns out when you're on nitrous you still need oxygen or else you might have a mild case of, y'know, death.
So Sarah and I stocked up on soft foods at the nearby market, headed home, waited, and drove back to the dentist's office ready to lose a little bit of weight.
First, they hooked me up to a gas mask and turned on some of the gas. I breathed deeply like they told me to and I felt pretty alright, but I was still aware of my body. A little too aware. Like I was pretty sure I'd have noticed if someone drilled into my jaw. The hygienist told me "you should feel like you've had one or two Coronas." I then became concerned that the hygienist might just be a spokesperson for Corona.
Ten minutes later they stuck what's got to be the worst lolly pop in the world in my mouth to numb the gums for injections. I think it was flavored: "Don't Feel Anything Cherry," not to be confused with "Dead To The World Raspberry," and "Emotionally Unavailable Grape."
There were a couple of injections at the same spot, but I was processing things pretty slowly at that point.
I breathed deeply to try to get high enough so I'd be suitable for surgery, but I had the feeling it just wasn't going to be enough. Damn you, Nitrous! I thought. That's what I get for choosing the bargain package.
But when the surgeon and her sous-surgeon came back they said,
"Okay, now that you're used to the oxygen, we're going to turn on the nitrous and we'll get started."
So it turns out oxygen on its own is a pretty decent high. Good to know.
That was nearly the last thing I remember. The other tidbits:
Surgeon: "When we start, you're going to feel a lot of water in your mouth."
High Ezra: (Thinking) That's probably going to be blood. Oh well.
Later, another realization.
High Ezra: (From the back corner of a very large room) Oh, I think the surgery's going on right now. It must be happening to someone else.
At one point I got a mental image of what was actually going on with people sticking metal bits into my mouth and realized that it was way better to be high, so I went back to being high.
Then it was over. They put me back on oxygen (life-sustaining and it feels like two Coronas!) and Sarah drove me home.
I then drank juice and ate pudding and Jell-o for two days, which was pretty awesome.
And that's how I spent my Winter vacation.
So I had my wisdom tooth taken out earlier this month. Just one though, in the bottom left slot. Turns out the one on the right doesn't exist and the two on the top are just too puny to be bothered with right now.
I haven't been famously great with decision-making, so it was a tough one when they asked me how I wanted to be sedated. There's general anesthesia, an IV drip, and nitrous. Then, for those of us whose last name is Hulk, first name "The Incredible," there's the novocaine-only option. Wikipedia told me there's a 1 in 350,000 chance of dying under general, so that was out, because I'm pretty sure I'm one in a million, and would hate to have to die three times to prove it. (That's how odds work, right?)
The IV drip had too much in common with Rocky IV, so I had to pass on that too.
Nitrous, on the other hand, is awesome.
1. It makes cars go faster.
2. It makes whipped cream more delicious.
3. It provides key plot points to Little Shop of Horrors.
And at $125 it was cheaper than the other options that didn't require an excess of Hulkitude. Sold.
So I was feeling pretty good about my choice when I sat down in the dentist's chair early on a Thursday morning to have my tooth yanked. At my parents' suggestion I filled up my iPod with an appropriate playlist.
An Appropriate Playlist for Someone About to be Tripping on Nitrous
1. Novocaine for the Soul - Eels
2. Cocaine - Eric Clapton
3. Burn One Down - Ben Harper
4. The Theme to Cheers
So I listened to the songs and waited... and waited. There was an LCD screen in front of me cycling through a powerpoint of nature photos with cheesy inspirational quotations and horrific before and after shots of various elective dental procedures. I started thinking about the slim chance that I could die during the wisdom tooth extraction, and I realized how sad it would be if those pictures were the last things I ever saw, and those tacky sayings about hard work were the last thing I ever read. In the corner I saw a copy of US Weekly from May and started reading it.
I immediately regretted the possibility that now Lindsey Lohan's before-and-after diet shots could be the last things that I saw and that the phrase "baby bump" could be the last words that I read.
After a sickening 20-minute binge on celebrity gossip, the hygienist told me that their supplier forgot to drop off any oxygen. Turns out when you're on nitrous you still need oxygen or else you might have a mild case of, y'know, death.
So Sarah and I stocked up on soft foods at the nearby market, headed home, waited, and drove back to the dentist's office ready to lose a little bit of weight.
First, they hooked me up to a gas mask and turned on some of the gas. I breathed deeply like they told me to and I felt pretty alright, but I was still aware of my body. A little too aware. Like I was pretty sure I'd have noticed if someone drilled into my jaw. The hygienist told me "you should feel like you've had one or two Coronas." I then became concerned that the hygienist might just be a spokesperson for Corona.
Ten minutes later they stuck what's got to be the worst lolly pop in the world in my mouth to numb the gums for injections. I think it was flavored: "Don't Feel Anything Cherry," not to be confused with "Dead To The World Raspberry," and "Emotionally Unavailable Grape."
There were a couple of injections at the same spot, but I was processing things pretty slowly at that point.
I breathed deeply to try to get high enough so I'd be suitable for surgery, but I had the feeling it just wasn't going to be enough. Damn you, Nitrous! I thought. That's what I get for choosing the bargain package.
But when the surgeon and her sous-surgeon came back they said,
"Okay, now that you're used to the oxygen, we're going to turn on the nitrous and we'll get started."
So it turns out oxygen on its own is a pretty decent high. Good to know.
That was nearly the last thing I remember. The other tidbits:
Surgeon: "When we start, you're going to feel a lot of water in your mouth."
High Ezra: (Thinking) That's probably going to be blood. Oh well.
Later, another realization.
High Ezra: (From the back corner of a very large room) Oh, I think the surgery's going on right now. It must be happening to someone else.
At one point I got a mental image of what was actually going on with people sticking metal bits into my mouth and realized that it was way better to be high, so I went back to being high.
Then it was over. They put me back on oxygen (life-sustaining and it feels like two Coronas!) and Sarah drove me home.
I then drank juice and ate pudding and Jell-o for two days, which was pretty awesome.
And that's how I spent my Winter vacation.
Comments