More Lost Body Parts

I got so distracted by the thought of facing the Angels of Death last Saturday, that I totally forgot to document the latest episode of "Warren's Lost Body Parts." On Thursday, Warren went in to have his wisdom teeth removed. Only his two upper ones ever came in, so it wasn't that big of a deal. Nevertheless, he decided to air on the side of "feeling no pain" and signed up for laughing gas and general anesthesia.

When they took him back, I asked the nurse how long it would take. I had hoped to flip through a few People magazines before tearing into the latest issue of The Sun.

"About thirty minutes," she said.

I wasn't even half way done with the "Greatest Weight Loss Stories of 2007" when they came and told me I could come back to the recovery room. There I found Warren completely comatose.


(His hand was actually strewn across his face, but I removed it for dignity's sake.)

The nurse told me he was fine and that he should be waking up soon. "Right, Warren?" she said loudly.

He didn't move.

It was kind of funny, but also a little disturbing. I actually checked to see if he was breathing.

He was.

Meanwhile a perky nurse came in and said, "I usually just ask teenagers, but do you think he wants to keep his teeth?"

"YES," I said. "Definitely."

She wrapped them in some gauze, put them in a small envelope, and handed them to me.

I waited a few more minutes then decided to try and revive Warren. I rubbed his hands, shook him a little bit, and said, "Wake up honey, it's time to go home.

He opened his eyes, looked at me, and asked, "When are they going to start?"

"They're done," I said.

He looked at me wild eyed, and said, "Nu-uh!"

I laughed and said, "I have your teeth right here. Want to see?"

He nodded and I showed him his teeth. Then he fell back asleep.


The perky nurse came back in and I was laughing so hard I was almost crying. I told her what had happened and she said, "Oh, he'll be like that all day."

Then Warren opened his eyes, looked at me, and asked, "When are they going to start?"

"They're done," I said.

He looked at me wild eyed, and said, "Nu-uh!"

I laughed harder this time and said, "I have your teeth right here. Want to see?"

He nodded and I showed him his teeth. Then he fell back asleep.

I was cracking up. I felt guilty, but hoped that he wouldn't remember.

Then it dawned on me. This is what it is going to be like when we're old!

Warren opened his eyes, looked at me, and asked, "When are they going to start?"

"They're done," I said.

He looked at me wild eyed, and said, "Nu-uh!"

I laughed even harder this time and said, "I have your teeth right here. Want to see?"

He nodded and I showed him his teeth. Then he fell back asleep.

The doctor came in then and said he did fine, that it only took about 3 minutes, and gave me some instructions for Warren's follow up care.

Three minutes!

Maybe he should have toughed it out without the anesthesia.

After another 15 minutes, he woke up enough to sit up and put ice on his face. Then he asked to see his teeth.

I am not making this up!

Then he told me that he had about twenty minutes of laughing gas before they even gave him the anesthesia.

Then he told me again.

And again.

I started having visions of my poor grandfather who suffered many strokes and spent years and years repeating himself.

I helped Warren to the car, listened to him tell me about the laughing gas between naps, helped him in the house, filled his prescription for Percocet (!), made him a milkshake, got him settled on the sofa, and then went to work.

Thankfully by the time I came home, he was back to normal.

But he did tell me about the laughing gas one more time.