Half a day and four teeth later, I’m thinking about the pain. The lack of it. I thought pulling wisdom teeth would be more painful. Yesterday evening, I have taken a tab of brufen – just to be sure – but it wouldn’t have been necessary. Today I haven’t taken one yet, which on the other hand is a waste of medication, resources and money.
I asked to save the teeth, as trofee or, like the nurse told me, for the Tooth Fairy although she’s never come to me yet (“keep trying”, the nurse said). I think it would be better to clean them first, otherwise my bed will be covered with blood and the Tooth Fairy surely wouldn’t come and fetch them. Bad luck twice.
On the way home, I felt my mouth filling with drops of blood. It was dripping, not streaming so that we didn’t have to stop to release the saved mouthful of red fluid, but I didn’t want to swallow it either: a stomach doesn’t like blood in it’s pure form and vomiting is the last thing I wanted. At home, there were enough drops of blood to drain them as a little fountain of red potion.
Not only I had some bloody teeth in a jar next to me or a mouth full of blood, when I came home, I noticed the brown crust in my right nostril, evidence of what medics like to call an epistaxis, hemorrhage from the nose… How lovely. I think I don’t want to know what exactly they have done while I was knocked out. Or how they knocked me out…