Put up your dukes

On Friday the 18th the adventure began. Dan's appointment was at 11:30. I worked from home in the morning and he came and picked me up so that we could go together and have 1 car so I could drive him home.

Dan was a bundle of nerves. He's never undergone anything like this before, and hadn't yet had a consultation (the doctor thought they'd just do it all at the time of surgery) so didn't really know what to expect. We were called back and Dan sat in the chair as the too-perky nurse put a drop cloth around him and pulled up his x-rays. "So it looks like we're getting all four removed today?"

Ouch. That was the first blow. Dan was only prepared for two and was certain the dentist had only recommended two. For those of us who have had ours done, we'd most certainly say, get them all out at once to remove any chance of EVER having to get this done again, but for Dan, this was devastating. I jumped into calming mode, but it appeared to be too late. "Don't talk to me," he said.

Alright. Well surely, I thought,the doctor will come in and smooth it over. Next thing I know, in walks Dan's 18 year old baby face doctor. "Hi I'm Dr. M." Nope. I could tell by his expression. That wasn't going to do it. Strike two.

At that point, there was really no salvaging the experience, so I switched to "it will be over soon" mode. The doctor described what would happen with the usual inclusions of all of the risks including dry socket, facial nerve damage and interference with sinuses. Dan's eyes just got bigger and I could see the wheels turning. He was convinced every possible side effect would be his. The doctor then excused me to wait.

About 40 minutes later I was called back to recovery. The once perky nurse was suddenly agitated and left me with the task of waking him. This didn't prove to be easy. For the next 45 minutes I tapped and talked to him. As the minutes ticket by my taps turned into shakes and the volume increased to a yell. Finally, I think the nurse had enough and came over, slapped some ice on the back of his neck and pulled him to sitting position. His started little by little opening his eyes a crack and slamming them shut. The nurse then announced it was time to go.

Alright, I would get some help to the car and we would be on our way. She showed me how to lock arms with him and opened the door to leave. "Just go slow." she said. Umm what??? "Can someone help me to the car with him?" I asked. "We don't do that." She said. The door slammed behind us. Dan and I were on our own.

The hallway was long, but now felt even longer. Dan kept falling asleep and couldn't manage to keep his eyes open so he would stumble and fall over against me or the walls. I'd prop him back up and we'd start again. I gingerly placed stood him up in the elevator, only to have him fall back against the buttons. We rode the elevator a couple of times up to 2 and back down to 1. The doors would open and I would try to get him up, but he'd be gone again, the doors would close and we'd be along for another ride.

Finally, I got the timing right and was able to wake him just as the doors opened on the main floor. Once there, I made a strategic decision to avoid the winding steps we took on the way up and instead go all around the building to the back parking lot. (There was no way we could handle the steps.)

Just a few steps outside and I spotted a man walking down the sidewalk alongside us. He smiled warmly at me (obviously entertained by the sight of my stumbling husband and my obviously pregnant self) and started to walk towards us to help. Dan promptly put up his fists and growled at the man "Grrr, you wanna fight?" "Dan, shh" I muttered. But it was too late. The man's warmth had faded and he had turned away. "I'm gonna fight that guy." Dan kept mumbling in between growls with his fists up. He attempted to lunge towards the man now 20 feet from us, but stumbled. So much for the help. Between periodic stops for Dan to apply Chapstick (which most of landed on his chin because he had absolutely no feeling in the lower region of his face) we finally made it to the car. I pushed him in and he proceeded to take photos of himself with his iPhone and attempt to tweet most of the way home. At least he was entertained.

The 48 hours did a lot to show me how ill prepared I am for the lack of sleep that soon awaits me. Every 2 hours I set my alarm to assure he would stay on top of his pain pills and antibiotics. I would wake up, get ice packs from the freezer, a smoothie and some water and get his pills for him. I'd then attempt to get back to sleep but inevitably would lie restless until about 10 minutes before I knew the alarm would go off again in rush to get back to sleep. 10 minutes later I would awake to repeat the same process. All the while listening to the pathetic groans, moans and questioning by Dan. "Did he cut my nerve? Did he cut into my sinus? Do I have dry socket?"

"Of course not, honey." I reassured him. "He said everything went perfectly, no problems whatsoever."

Truth is, I hadn't a clue. No, the doctor hadn't even come to talk to me following the surgery. But, from a psychology standpoint, I didn't think then was the time to tell him I didn't know. I was taking a gamble but if he had complications, we'd cross that bridge when we came to it.

Now, 10 days post-procedure Dan seems to be recovering well. I've enjoyed having a milkshake buddy for the past week and a half and will miss him when he returns to more normal foods.

As with all of our adventures in life, I learned a lot. 1) Ice packs do wonders to wake someone from surgery 2) Lortab is a wonderful drug 3) The smell of Dan's mouth post-op is one I will never forget (nor will I forget the frequent trips to the bathroom with nausea) and 4) Little white lies are totally worth even 10 minutes of sleep.

I think I'll keep the last one in mind as we embark on some of the sleepiest months of our lives. :)