You can find anything on the internet these days. It might not bear much likeness to any truth you’ve ever experienced, but you can find it if you can Google. Back when I was a whippersnapper in the 70s and 80s, we spent an inordinate amount of time learning to distinguish good resources from the crap ones. That is a lesson I wouldn’t wish upon any teacher or librarian these days as the line between complete hogwash and truth is a very fine one these days. Photoshop, CGI, photo and data manipulation has left us all in a more vulnerable place indeed.
There is some pretty convincing crap out there that serves one purpose only: to make you believe. And usually spend money, but that since becoming a parent I’ve been so nickel and dimed by my children and the world, I scarcely notice that part anymore.
My favorite internet memes and “articles” vary due to my mental stability on the given day. But 6 Pack Abs and interspecies friendships are always sure to please. Am I right? Whose brain can withstand the siren song of ripped ab muscles or tigers and orangutans cuddling?
Of course, since the horrific news that my just-turned-15-year-old son requires his wisdom teeth removed, there’s a new song played on repeat at Chez Moi. The internet sensations of “Just Had My Wisdom Teeth Removed and Aren’t I SO Funny Under the Effects of Anesthesia?” Teen boys being adorably wacky in the mini-van on their way home, husbands thinking their wives are the most gorgeous thing ever, and the newest Nicki Minaj wannabes. (I’d provide links but who am I to encourage your own false adoration of siren songs of lies?)
Because I’ve had several rounds of anesthesia and I’ve never had any of that fun.
Nope, not one giddy funny comment ever came out of my mouth post surgery. Plenty of barf and bloody spit, but nothing funny.
As far as I’m concerned, all these wisdom teeth videos are lies. Damned, damn lies.
My first wisdom tooth extraction resulted in me stumbling home, blood dripping down my chin and staining my coat, passing out for a few hours only to awaken to be violently sick to my stomach from the pain pills. Within a week I had a dry socket and that was so awesome. Well, awesome if you are a fan of pus and clove oil packing.
The remaining 3 were removed a few years later thru the ministrations of an area oral surgeon touted to be the BEST! If by best folks meant “Best A$$hole” then they were correct. Talk about lack of bedside manner….
It was my first experience with general anesthesia and let’s just say, it didn’t go particularly well for me.
First off, when the nurse says something along the lines of “You might feel a warm sensation in your mucous membranes,” I’m pretty sure her script is supposed to say “You will now be suffused with the fire of a thousand suns and may think you are literally burning up. But don’t be completely concerned. This sensation will pass because I will then toy with your mind by making you figure out how to count backwards.” I’m pretty sure I peed myself a wee bit trying to keep from screaming at all the areas of my body that were on fire. Because peeing right then would put out the flames that I was convinced were shooting out my nether regions. And I actually checked my armpits for flames. Thank god that was a short-lived experience of counting and the flame-checking and I knocked out.
But because Doctor Little Shop of Horrors was having a great time, I woke up during surgery. I figure he wanted to hear me scream in his ear while my blood went squirting across his face shield. All I really remember was how his eyebrows did this little jerky dance below his jaunty blue cap-gizmo and then all became blessedly dark again.
When I came to, I was moved to a nice quietly dark room where Mister Soandso came back to see me. But instead of me wishing to have Nicki Manaj’s ass or declaring my love for the gorgeousness of my husband, I opened my mouth for the nurse to change my gauze and Mister Soandso had to leave the room.
In case you are wondering, lots of coffee and no breakfast didn’t set up Mister Soandso very well to witness the bloody horror that was apparently my face. He was escorted from the room and the nurses made sure he was doing okay. (He hates it when I tell this story, but I figure it was great prep for when I had Biggest and there was a river of blood involved – which he handled like a pro in spite of its inherent grossness.)
Anyhoo, there I am, sitting in a dark room, my mouth stuffed to the gills with soggy gauze, and no one is around. Even if I was feeling remotely loopy, there was no one around to witness my loopiness.
So I gathered up our jackets and belongs, and wandered about the recovery area until I found him, and then I asked him if I needed to drive home. I may have even patted him on the back a few times.
I suppose it’s a good thing that I had my wisdom teeth out in the early 90s before we had succumbed to our new-found need to photograph and videotape the minutia of our lives. I’m sure instead of being super funny on the drive home, I was actually pretty quiet. Of course, having 12 feet of gauze in one’s mouth will do that to a body.
Actually, I’m more sure that 99% of all wisdom tooth extractions are boring as hell (although probably also nether region burning) and it’s only that freakish 1% that finds his or her inner comedian post anesthesia. All across America there are phones filled with video showing folks behaving quite boringly after they get their wisdom teeth removed. I keep trying to tell Biggest that most likely all he’ll do on the drive home is sleep and drool bloody spit all over himself, but he’s holding out for funny.
I haven’t the heart to fully tell him that like the cake, the wisdom tooth extraction video sensation is a lie. Better to let him dream at this point.