Taken seriously, of course, doctors often have to think of all the possibilities. When their well being and “life” is in your hands, they have to know how to respond to challenges of being in charger. And, they need to know of reactions to a surgical or medical need for the patient to follow, and care givers understand the severity of possible actions.
A major oral surgery, for me, happened Monday morning. It’s a dramatic decision not taken lightly. Multiple doctor interviews, multiple consideration of costs and options, and I finally chose a good one! After all, I’ve spent 10’s of thousands of dollars to keep my teeth in my head, and I want the right one to take me to the next step.
Yesterday, I said so long to the uppers and hello to implant hybrid technology. I’m not a stranger to implants, there are several on my lower jaw, but the technology and costs have come down over the past 10 years.
But the doctors instructions are very similar, decade to decade. If you can read it in the picture, notice the last sentence in bullet number 5.
“Do not trust him/her alone.”
I mean, I’ve helped be responsible for myself since I was about 17 or 18, and now all of a sudden I am not to be trusted…Alone. Well. Okay. I’ve acted a little different and my bride as enjoyed rubbing it in! I’m not supposed to walk up and down stairs unassisted… or drive after taking the pain pills… or be responsible for any of my actions!
As the treatment was underway, the doctor/nurse told me that I would be out of it for the 5 hour procedure, but may be allowed to wake up a little and become aware of what’s happening around me if I’m needed to participate, or even at the ending so I will be ready to move out of the building and head on home… I felt sure I was awake for all 5 hours, but, not really. Those last 20 minutes felt like 5 hours.
“You actually snored!”, said the Nurse!
We’ve seen those videos of kids coming home from the dentist and still high on anesthesia. Such humor. This did not happen to me, but I’m sure the doc has had plenty to laugh about with some patients.
After we made it home, my bride made sure I was setup for a good 24 hour recovery period. Chair. Covers. Technology. Water. Keep my head elevated. Every drink of water she provided. She declares I took some of the prescription meds earlier, and we had to count the remaining pills to make sure that I did…one thing I do not remember. Of course, that’s also in the instructions. “Caretakers must maintain control of all prescription medications prescribed.” Looks like you can’t trust the patient with the amoxicillin or hyrdrocodone. One for infection, the other for pain.
I’ve been staying awake for about 90 minutes and sleeping for 60 minutes, all afternoon long. I don’t ever remember slipping off into slumber land.
Then, bed time creeps around and I’m in my lounge chair in the living room, packaged like a sardine in the chair with the tables around me containing anything I might need overnight. No need to trip around the house in the dark! Why the living room? The gift from the family is the lounge chair that helps we keep my head elevated for 24 hours. Guess that’s part of the healing process.
I’m feeling no pain. Just residual soreness and numbness from having my jaw propped open for hours, and the gums are hidden behind the temporary hybrid, so there’s not much to see or worry about. 2 quarts of water are part of my recovery each day. We all know water can be good for you. Nothing hot, but a lukewarm cup of coffee was enjoyable. No solid food, but some scrambled eggs hit the spot.
But I talk funny. Lisping with strange equipment that I have to get used to! And with lips that still don’t work as well as they normally do. I’m worried that I will talk funny for several weeks until I get used to learn how adapt. Fortunately I have some good men who will fill my role at church for the next few weeks as I recover to some source of normalcy.
Okay. Life after 62! Here I come!