Minor surgery

Nope, no minor surgery for me. My brother deposited his wife, Emme, here earlier today after she had her wisdom teeth pulled. I'm not sure where she had them pulled, but I should ask. I'm thinking it was some guy named Snake that works out of his garage.

She was wheeled out in a wheelchair after having her teeth pulled because she was too out of it to walk. I'm glad Snake at least has a wheelchair and his garage is apparently handicapped accessible, but shouldn't he have let poor Emme at least regain consciousness before he tossed her out to make room for his next victim patient?

So, my brother Ricky Rescue (he's a firefighter/EMT/possible adrenaline junkie?) half carried Emme inside, got her settled on the couch, and gave me a rundown of the instructions Snake had given them.

If you are our lone reader who checks in regularly from Russia you a.) probably don't see anything wrong with dental surgery occurring in a back alley and b.) don't know that I'm a nurse. Not that I work as a nurse, but I have retained some knowledge. Which meant I thought these instructions were just as crappy as the post-op care. There were strict instructions in bold print to not take any pain medication for 6 hours after surgery. Because everyone knows it's a good idea not to take anything for pain after having permanent teeth extracted from your jaw.

Anyway, the high point of the morning was poor Emme on the couch after being here for about 10 or 15 minutes tearing up and asking for her youngest child. I thought she was just missing the little runt until Ricky Rescue reassured Emme that their baby was fine. She was sleeping soundly in the car. !? Emme, still more than a little gorked, just cried some more. I freaked out suggested maybe a one year old shouldn't be left in the car indefinitely and Ricky went to get her. It was my big leadership move of the day.

Ricky and baby went home to the rest of their kids, leaving Emme to recuperate in peace. (My kids were quietly occupied by children's television). The rest of the morning involved saliva, blood, gagging, etc. (not necessarily all from Emme), and culminated in watching What Not to Wear and having a deep discussion involving curly hair and mullets. Which I'm pretty sure Emme won't remember since she was under the influence of lingering anesthesia and against-sketchy-medical advice Vicodin.

*I'm sorry that this is the most boring post ever, but unless you want to hear in excrutiating detail how I've been on the couch watching the Olympics nonstop ("13 minutes into the water polo match between China and Spain, I decided I needed a glass of iced tea...") this is what you get. Also sorry to Emme, our most faithful reader, for featuring her entrance to the project in this inane, blathering post.

--Kae--