Of Wisdom Teeth and Drunk Driving

At 29, one would have assumed I'd have been smart enough to have gone to the dentist, I dunno... like once.

But when you think Jason Randall, I know you think "he's a sexy brainiac with the eyes of a God and the butt of Thor," but even I make mistakes.

So in February, I began a series of dental appointments, with the final one on Thursday to remove my wisdom teeth. I was to be sedated with these 2 pills, along with the laughing gas and the Novocaine for the procedure.

My primary frustration with my dental appointments is the lack of communication. Seriously, if you have to refill the needle 7 times and you inject me in 17 places - I think I should be told about it to prepare myself.

I wish that was an exaggeration, but I counted.. while shaking, while gripping the chair, while trying to hold back a tear or seven.

It was then they got to work. I woke up several times, and felt the removal of three of four teeth. I felt them using my jawbone as leverage. I also saw the curved needle they used while sewing me up.

But it wasn't until the procedure was over that the fun started.

I had a prescription to fill, so we went shopping. And I handled the cart.

VROOOOOM! At lightning speed, I ran aisle after aisle, running into garbage cans and displays. I think I ran over a kid or two. I bought stuff I'd usually not buy, and I freaked out quite a few people.

How, you ask?

Apparently, gaping holes in the back of your mouth make you bleed by the gallon, and when you're standing in the parking lot with your mouth wide open, drugged up beyond all recognition, people tend to stare as the blood pool gets larger and larger.

Fortunately, I have a wife who loves me enough to shove me in the car and put more gauze in my mouth to clamp down on.

When we finally get home, Char forces me to sit down as I've been holding a bag under my mouth for over an hour trying to reduce the blood spillage.

Seriously, it was like a Bruce Campbell movie.

Once the drugs kicked in, I fell asleep and woke up the next morning with a tennis ball lump on my cheek and a Gorbachev bruise on my neck.

Oddly enough, I'm mostly pain free. However, I'm reduced to watered down soups and puddings for the next 5 days.

I can't complain, however. Pudding is the awesome.

So that's my weekend. How's yours?