Prepoceros

Last week I noticed that Sam’s pee, instead of issuing forth in a glorious stream, dribbled slowly onto the ground, so that it took him two or three times as long as usual to do his business. He didn’t appear to be in pain and acted normally otherwise, but I took him to the vet anyway.

She took a urine sample and some x-rays and found a mild bladder infection and two bladder stones, one of which was lodged in his urethra. That one was so large that at first she thought it might not actually be a bladder stone, since he shouldn’t have been able to pee past it. But it was; Sam’s just a trooper. I really hope he hasn’t been in terrible pain for the last few days.

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I slept right through the quadruple extraction, which ended up taking only thirty minutes. John came in and sat with me in the recovery room for twenty minutes, of which I remember about two. Apparently I was pretty goofy, which really makes me mad I forgot my video camera. I was totally planning to post a video like this one.

John says I lamented not bringing my camera several times, and I also repeatedly stuck my fingers up my nose while mumbling something incoherent through my gauze. He only later realized that I’d been trying to tell him I’d had a nasal cannula.

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I’m pleased to report that after five days of raising a fuss, my rogue wisdom tooth did finally settle its ass down, as I requested. While it was hurting, though, I called to move the surgery date up a bit, so they’re all coming out tomorrow. Huzzah!

Right now I don’t feel much anxiety. I’m trying not to get worked up about it, and so far that’s been pretty successful. No dizziness or nausea, at least, which is a relief. Last night I thought I felt the first wave of nausea coming on around bedtime, but after thinking a little more I realized it was probably that chai frappuccino and toffee bar I had for dinner instead.

I imagine I’ll post pictures of my chipmunk face in a few days, so look forward to those. So long, extra teeth!

I need to write about this because it’s been on my mind a lot lately. It’s about my wisdom teeth and their continued presence in my head.

I first found out that my two bottom wisdom teeth were growing in sideways and would have to be removed when I was seventeen, and for the seven years since then I’ve been (1) putting off having it done and (2) worrying about it.

I actually made and kept a preliminary appointment with an oral surgeon last year, but that was around the same time that Larry I was causing trouble, so I dealt with him first. But that surgeon’s office was done all in matchy browns and oranges with fancy chairs, like someone’s living room. Even the exam rooms were painted a soothing, sumptuous brown. The staff all wore identical burnt-orange scrubs. Would YOU want to undergo minor surgery in someone’s living room? I thought not. Garish hospital white, practical furniture, and bears-and-hippos scrubs for me, please.

Plus the surgeon was too jokey, and his hands were cold and stumpy. Needless to say, I didn’t call those interior decorators medical professionals back, even after I’d recovered from my surgery.

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