A week ago today I had my molar pulled. The surgeon was deft and the procedure was quick and successful -- not a surprise because he's also a facial trauma surgeon at a major Chicago hospital. I'm lucky my dentist recommended him.
But I have felt awful for a week. Compounding my physical discomfort is knowing that people deal with far worse than this every day.
1. I'm a freak. My roots are unusually thick and deep. This is not news to me. I can recall two different dentists commenting on it as they reviewed my x-rays. But I didn't understand the ramifications until now. Removing my molar had to be done carefully and completely or my sinuses would be compromised. So while the procedure itself was uneventful, the recovery has been a bitch.
2. I'm bruised. From my left jaw to the side of my nose, my face has been my own personal pride flag for June. Yellow, green, blue, and purple. It fades a wee bit every day, but the surgeon warned me I'm only halfway healed. I shouldn't be surprised if the bruising is still visible for another week. I miss covid masks.
3. Antibiotics are not my friend. They made me sick after the dental procedure I had in April, they made me sick after the tooth extraction in June. I ping pong between bloating and diarrhea. It's miserable. I spoke to the surgeon about this on Monday and he told me to stop taking the amoxicillin immediately and begin eating lots of Chobani. But here it is Friday and I still feel crappy. This should clear up "any day." When it's behind me, I want to sit down with my PCP and discuss this. As I get older, more and more is going to go wrong with my body and what are my treatment options, exactly? Amoxicillin and erythromycin not only don't help me fight off infection, they play for the other side.
One more week of this, Gal. One more week and this should all be a memory.
