Well that wasn't too horrible...

Got to the surgicentre on time. Waited for a bit then, after talking for a bit with a good, solid nurse (one of those female nurses who, in the badly paraphrased words of someone I can't remember, looked like the sort of nurse who copes equally well with forgetful old patients who don't always wear clothes and aggro, drunken footballers on Saturday mornings at 2AM), a very brief, somewhat scattered and fast-talking (in that he talked rapidly, not that he was double-talking) surgeon, a slightly longer chat with an anaesthesiologist in natty blue Birkenstocks and finally a chat with another solid, friendly nurse and I was led into the OR.

I wasn't under a general anasthetic, but rather under a deep sedation that would've let me signal if there was a problem, but meant that I was completely out of it. I had a canula (is that the word, medical people?) in the back of my hand and a quick preop. The anasthetic-guy (not writing the -ist form again) was talking me through it, and I was apologising in advance for anything I did or said under the influence. Then it was a few nerve-blockers in the mouth and the next thing I know I'm in recovery being asked by someone who I've never seen before if my nausea (which I don't remember having) is better. I had a bag of IV fluid dripping in the back of my hand (which really does just get sucked into you like a popper) and a very friendly nurse. Mum came into the recovery room and we got the post-op briefing.

Mum drove me home, and my jaw started to hurt a little in the car, but apart from some minor chip-munking (as I said) and a semi-constant tickle from the sutures, it's nowhere near as bad as I feared it would be. There's some pain (duh) and there was a bit of blood to spit out yesterday, but today I'm just sitting in bed. Not cause I feel I need to, but mostly just cause I can. :)

I've started my antibiotics, although I'm a little disappointed that the prodeine forte hasn't sent me into a Hicks-ian, consciousness-expanding drug haze.