It's been almost one week since the fateful wisdom teeth removal, and my Jan Michael is as sick as I've ever seen him. I'm sad to report that oral surgery and a cold, even the very beginning of one, do not mix. In fact, they collide violently to create the perfect, raging storm of misery and vexation.
His cheeks are yellow and bruised; because of the wreck in his mouth, the details of which are too graphic for the sensitive reader, he has eaten only a few pudding cups and the occasional bowl of mashed potatoes in 7 days; he is weak and tottery; he alternates between being unable to breathe and having to use Kleenex by the dozens; sleep evades him, except for an hour or two in the early morning; when he speaks, he sounds like a croaking toad.
And while I hate to see him in such an awful state, it makes me so thankful that for the most part, we are both very healthy, robust kids who've never had to deal with anything more earth-shattering than a bad stomach flu or sprained ankle. There are so many people in the world who are chronically or terminally ill, who live with suffering and pain for months and years on end. There are people in places like Haiti who are having limbs removed in the middle of the street, and who have no homes in which to heal and recover. My goodness, the amount of inconvenience and hardship we experience is just a minute drop in the bucket, if that, and I'm grateful for the help we're given to put things in perspective.
But you can bet that neither of us will ever have any kind of surgery without an immune system that's in tip-top shape to begin with :)
Waiting on a gig
4 hours ago