This post is to document the last three days of my wisdom tooth removal process. Also, to make you laugh.
Day 1:
At 8:00 on the morning of July 29, 2009, I arrived at the orthodontist in Lehi. After enduring many insensitive jibes about my looming surgery from the calloused, unfeeling nurses (I believe they were called Cruella and Jabba), I entered the room where the fateful destruction of my four extra molars was to take place. The oral surgeon entered, and imformed me that he was wearing his lucky wristband. I remarked dryly that I hoped he wasn't relying too much on luck. He said not to worry, as he had learned how to do this surgery pretty well the day before. I asked whether he had learned it on Wikipedia. He didn't answer, which I took as a bad omen. Shortly thereafter, they put me on Nitrous Oxide. I had previously instructed my mouth to stop moving at the mention of Nitrous Oxide, as other peoples' experiences have told me that the line between "witty" and "retarded" statements blurs alarmingly with the introduction of that particular gas.
Is this real life?
I inhaled the laughing gas with exceptional dignity, and vaguely felt an IV being inserted into my arm. Then I woke up on my couch at home. Subsisting on a steady diet of water and Lortab, my thoughts were not too clear that day. At one point, I decided to go check my FaceBook. Rising off the couch, I walked up the stairs and sat down at the computer. At that point, my vision went black and I only just managed to gently lower myself onto the floor before I lost consciousness. "Edward..." I moaned, as the hole in my chest overpowered me.
Day 2:
July 30, 2009. I woke up, and promptly went back to sleep. This event occurred with alarming regularity throughout the entire day. I read all of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. And I drank some Fuze. (Note: I finished that Fuze off today. It tasted like getting your wisdom teeth out.)
On the plus side, I was free to choose a position other than "laying down" without being forced to do Bella impersonations.
Day 3:
I had to go into work today for a while, until they could find someone to cover. A friend of mine who also works at Iceberg came in, took one look at me, and burst out laughing. Well, I'm glad one of us found humor in the situation.
And because I'm a rebel, I'm not even going to post a picture of my comically swollen face. That's right, I'm denying all seven of my readers that pleasure!
I stepped off the Hogwarts Express alongside Ron, Hermione, and Harry, shooting malevolent looks at Malfoy as he passed. It was our 5th year at Hogwarts, and I had spent the majority of the train ride listening to them groan about O.W.L. exams. They were going to take place this year, and though I felt I could have passed them easily last year, I said nothing about the exams, aside from perhaps slipping a dry, witty comment in once or twice. Possibly three times.
I walked up to the thestral-drawn carriages, Ron, Hermione, and Harry hurrying along in my wake. The thestrals were looking thinner, more gaunt somehow than usual. I, of course, had been able to see the thestrals ever since I killed that Death Eater in my first year. The familiar call of "firs' years, this way!" rang out from the lake. I smiled quietly to myself, wondering if even Hagrid had noticed how underfed the thestrals were looking. I made a mental note to myself to mention it to him next time he invited me, Hermione, Harry, and maybe even Ron down to his cottage for tea and rock cakes, as he inevitably would by owl the first week of term.
As I stepped onto my carriage, I heard a shout and whipped around at lightning speed, thinking that Seamus had once again blown something the heck up. What met my eyes, however, was the hulking figure of Crabbe, his gorilla arms holding his wand up in the sky. He was casting the dark mark, just for fun it seemed. With a lazy flick of my wand, I sent his spinning skyward. It landed with a satisfying plop in the lake. Quickly erasing the dark mark from the sky before anyone noticed, I made a dry, witty comment on how thick Crabbe was.
Harry, Hermione, and Ron laughed loudly at my humor, then began quibbling among themselves over who got to sit next to me in the carriage.
"Andrew, Harry got to sit next to you last year, and Ron was the year before that. Isn't it my turn?" begged Hermione.
I rolled my eyes. Petrificus Totalus! The incantation emanated from my mouth thrice in quick succession. Hermione and Ron landed with their own respective thumps on the grass, and Harry swayed comically before crashing down on top of them both. He began attempting in vain to clutch at his scar like a loser, (because any time he clutches at his scar, he does so "like a loser"). He couldn't really move, but I could just tell.
I stood over the three. One of them, probably Ron, was whimpering quietly.
"Now you can all sit next to me at once!" I chortled, stacking them vertically next to me in the carriage. Harry stopped trying to grab his scar. Possibly he realized what a clever solution this was. He even smiled, a little. Except for he was paralyzed.
The thestrals started towards the castle. I gazed up at the many turrets and spires of Hogwarts, knowing that it would all be mine someday. The song The Circle of Life began playing, from Lion King.
Three years have passed since that day. Three long years, in which Harry helped me kill Voldemort, and I married both Ginny and Hermione. Ron protested at first, but after my Confundus charm, he seems to be quite happy with Lavender Brown. The sword of Gryffindor now rests in its scabbard at my side, because wearing a sword around makes me look super bad-a. The sorting hat resides in its proper place, on my head. It has to make a new song up for me each week. Harry has a spell placed on him that makes his forehead hurt (I have long since healed the scar) every time he says "blimey." Seamus has had a very successful career entertaining toddlers and the elderly by blowing things up in his face. Neville does crap with plants, or something. All is well.
