High Tolerance

Last week I went in to have my upper wisdom teeth* removed.

I am not a fan of any type of surgery but after talking to some friends and my doctor I decided to get it done. After all I was not using them the way they were supposed to be used. They had the potential to cause more problems and complications which could be costly. I was also told that the procedure was not painful, would only take about 30 minutes and only required a couple of days for recovery.

Lauren dropped me off at the surgeon's office the morning of the operation. I asked her to pick me up in an hour. Even though I was only having a local anesthetic the people at the facility suggested I have someone drive me in case I ended up feeling woozy post operation.

I laid back on the chair as the nurse pushed pedals to make adjustments to the height and angle of the chair. The surgeon prepped his instruments. I watched as he inserted a huge needle into a glass bottle of the local anesthetic. He pulled back the plunger and filled the syringe with the clear liquid. The nurse left the room as the doctor started his work.

"You will feel a slight pinch and quick burn. Then you shouldn't feel anything after a few minutes." the doctor said.

I felt a pinch. I felt the burn. We waited.

I watched the doctor grab some shiny metal things and I closed my eyes as he went to work. He must of sensed that I was not completely numb when as he made his first cut I nearly jumped out of the chair.

"Can you feel that?" he asked.

"Yes. How could you tell?" I responded somewhat sarcastically.

The doctor gave me a little bit more of the anesthetic.

I felt a pinch. I felt a burn. We waited.

The doctor went back to work. I could feel him cutting me. I felt him prying and poking with his instruments. I broke out into a sweat.

"I can still feel everything you are doing." I said through gritted teeth.

"Do you feel pain? Or pressure?" he said. "Pressure is normal." He added.

"Pain! I can feel everything you are doing. Every cut, every move, every instrument, everything." My knuckles were white from where I was gripping the chair, my nails were leaving indentations in the vinyl covering.

"You must have a high tolerance the the anesthetic. Most people only require 4ccs. I have already given you 6. I will give you 2 more and we will wait. It should do the trick."

I felt a pinch. I felt a burn. We waited.

The doctor went back to work. I nearly leaped out of the chair.

"I can't believe you felt that?" The doctor said. He was clearly annoyed.

"I am not making it up." I was starting to panic.

"I know. I know. I'm sorry. I just don't understand." He tried to comfort me.

"Let's just get it done." I said. "I will deal with the pain just hurry it up."

He called the nurse into the room and they looked at the bottle of anesthetic, making sure it was within the expiration date. They spoke in hushed tones and I heard him say something about never having to use the full 10cc before but he will try it. The nurse opened and prepped a new syringe and needle. The doctor gave me the last 2cc in original needle.

I felt a pinch. A dull burn. We waited. I was finally numb.

The doctor grabbed his instruments and went back to work being very careful and meticulous. He made sure I was not feeling anything. What was supposed to take a half hour turned into an hour. Lauren texted me to make sure I was okay. She was back to pick me up. I texted back saying that I would be a few more minutes.

The doctor sighed in a way that signaled he was done. He placed his metal instrument on the tray next to him. "Okay. You didn't feel any of that, did you?"

"No." I said. "Am I all done?"

"No." he said. "I still have to do the left side."

My eyes went wide. I may have whimpered. A tear may have slowly rolled down my cheek.

"Don't worry." he said, "I will give you the full 10ccs to start with."




*For the sake of the male readers I substituted the words "Upper Wisdom Teeth" for Vas Deferens.

Man Space

A long time ago, before Lauren and I bought our first house, she told me I would eventually get to have my own man-space. Some men get to have the garage or the basement as a workshop or a gym as their space in their house but that is not me. I always wanted to have an office.

My man space would be a dimly lit room with dark furniture and bookshelves. The desk would have multiple rings stained into the grain of the wood from too many cups of coffee which would only be visible if I turned on the green shaded bankers desk light. I would sit in a leather, highback executive swivel chair with wheels. Unless I was reading, then I would sit in the corner, under a tall floor lamp, in a old, musty wing back chair. I would have a decanter of scotch on a small serving table. Who am I kidding I would have an empty decanter. It would be decorated the way I would want it. And if I could, my man-space would have a secret entrance, like a rolling book shelf or a fake wall.

In our new house there is not really a room I can use for an office so Lauren agreed I will eventually get a corner of the living room. It is not the same as having my own space but it will have to do. Over the years I have gathered items I would put in my man-space. I have saved these items like I had a hope chest. One of the items I found is reprodcution of Rembrandt's "The Man in the Golden Helmet". A few weeks ago I decided to hang it on the living room wall.

Now, Lauren is rethinking whether I can have the corner in the living room.

I cannot understand why she does not like it.

Do you have man-space in your house? What's it like?