Brought to You by the Letter W

Waiting, Wambling, Wisdom teeth, and Woozy were the words of the day.  Today was the big day. I had made an appointment at 10:30 a.m. with the oral surgeon for to have my sixteen year old son’s wisdom teeth removed.  Yes all four of them at one time.  We both decided we didn’t want to go through the procedure twice.

We arrived at the surgeon’s office at 10:20 so I would have plenty of time to fill out the required paperwork and practice writing my name, address, and phone number a minimum of three times per form.  I completed the paperwork and returned it to the receptionist promptly at 10:30.  Fifteen minutes later, they called him back for X-rays.  I was impressed; we didn’t have to wait long at all to get the ball rolling.

I smiled to myself thinking, “Yep twenty minute procedure, we’ll be home by 1:00 at the latest. I’ll be able to get my run in after all.” 

Thirty minutes later, they called him back to take a second scan.  Another hour passed and the amusement of watching the guy across the room alternate between dropping his crossword puzzle and his pencil repeatedly while his wife snickered or the woman who meticulously arranged and rearranged the magazines on the rack in between naps had long since worn off. 

“Is that your stomach?” my son asked.

“Yeah, I guess I should have eaten more,” I replied.

“It’s wambling,” he informed me.

“Wambling?”

“Yes, wambling, it’s another word to describe the rumbling sound your stomach is making, and yes, you should have eaten more,” he replied with great wisdom.

After two hours we finally made it to the consult room and after another twenty minutes we met the good doctor and things were underway. During the twenty-minute procedure, I sped to Taco Bell, wolfed down a fresco taco and burrito, and raced back into the dental office through a torrential downpour.

At last they called me back to the recovery room. 

“He’s going to be a little out of it, the kids can be anywhere from weepy to wacky when they come out of the anesthesia. But it’s all normal,” the nurse explained.

I nodded and tried to keep up while she raced through the post op instructions like pre-recorded airline safety instructions being played in fast forward. Thank goodness it was all written down for me.

“I’m woozy, am I ok? Are you here mom?” he slurred.

“I’m right here… can you open your eyes?” I replied softly.

His eyes fluttered open, “I’m seeing double… thatsh ok…that way I have two pretty Mompas…” He replied and immediately drifted off. (My kids call me Mompa or Mama Pajama, don’t ask me why because I have no idea where it came from, I just answer to it.)

The nurse was in and out checking on him; between visits we had an incoherent and mostly amusing conversation.  I had to laugh, because even in his ‘altered’ state, he remained ‘Mr. Logical.’

“I know I can eat applesauce and yogurt, but what can I drink?” He asked.

“It says here, you should start with clear carbonated beverages such as ginger ale, sprite, or seven up,” I responded.

“Can I have Root Beer?”  He asked

“It says you should have clear liquids.” 

“Ginger ale isn’t clear, it’s beige,” He countered.

“I think they mean clear as in, you can see through it.” I replied.

“That’s the meaning of translucent, but if they say Ginger Ale is ok, I guess I can drink it.”

We wambled through the parking lot and headed to the pharmacy.  As it turns out wamble also means: to move in a weaving, wobbling, or rolling manner. Between the anesthesia and more than a foot difference in height I’m certain we did anything but walk in a straight line to the car.

The wait at the pharmacy could be a story all of its own, so I’ll save it for another day – or not.

It was a day of waiting, wambling, and wooziness. The procedure was a success and there are no more wisdom teeth, no complications, and the patient is ‘westing’ comfortably.

Today… brought to you by the letter W.

 

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