By Michelle Tian

You probably didn’t notice that I didn’t write last week because I’m not a celebrity and nobody cares about me. 

Sorry, that was really depressing, but yeah, I wasn’t able to write last week. That’s because I was busy living through an extremely horrible experience that’s honestly kind of hilarious to me now, but definitely was not funny at the time. 

So, how about we relive the shitshow that was Nov. 9–13? 

I had surgery on Nov. 9. This bone graft operation was a followup surgery from the one that gave me esophagitis (super fun). They assured me I would be fine and that it was a routine procedure, so I didn’t feel very anxious, but oh my God, that shit hurted

The main part of the surgery wasn’t too bad except for the fact that they didn’t give me enough anesthesia so I could honestly feel them stitching their way through my mouth while I just kinda laid there screaming internally while staring at the 5-Minute Crafts video that was playing on the screen above my head. 

After I got home, I laid down on my couch and held a giant ice pack to my throbbing cheek. I looked and felt so disgusting, but I was in too much pain to really give a crap. 

Around 9 p.m., I made the mistake of deciding to eat this giant-ass mango slice and then the mold that was protecting the roof of my mouth fell out, but it was still connected to a few of my stitches so I had a panic attack. 

My dental clinic wasn’t open and they didn’t put an emergency contact so I thought, “Oh, shit, I’m gonna swallow this mold in my sleep and die.” 

Thankfully, I found their email and they were able to get back to me in about 10 minutes. I drove to their office and all they did was take out some scissors and snip the stitches out. Yeah, I had an anxiety attack over nothing. 

When I woke up the next morning, I assumed the worst of the pain was gone, but I was so heckin’ wrong. My cheek was the size of a balloon, it was in the shape of a square and I could barely open my mouth to talk.

I still went to class on Zoom and held an ice packet to my cheek the entire time, but then, I had a complete mental breakdown during the middle of my quiz and started crying for literally no reason at all

I turned off my camera, had a sobfest for like 10 minutes and then left the class as soon as I finished my quiz. And yes, you’re allowed to feel secondhand embarrassment.  

Later on, I started to feel really weak. I had no energy or appetite. On top of that, I felt like my room was really cold for some reason. Does that seem like three red flags to you? Because yes, they absolutely are. I had a fever. 

Now, before I continue on, no, I did not have COVID-19. But here’s a little backstory: when I was really young, I had a reaction to the antibiotic amoxicillin. The doctor said I was allergic to it and told me not to take it again. 

The thing is, these types of surgeries require amoxicillin as an antibiotic and the only other alternative is clindamycin — the same medicine that gave me esophagitis. So, the entire time, I was hesitant about taking amoxicillin because my ginormous cheek and I were afraid of a possible reaction. 

Oops, big mistake. The bacteria flared up and I got a fever. 

My family then decided I couldn’t just sit in bed and get worse. So, my mom drove me to the emergency room in case I had an allergic reaction to the antibiotic. But I was terrified because you know… it’s a hospital… and we’re in a pandemic. And if I roll into the emergency room with a chipmunk cheek and a frog throat and also catch COVID-19… 

No, thank you.

We sat in the parking lot while I anxiously waited to see if I would have a reaction to the medicine. And thank the Lord, I was fine so we were able to go home. 

The next few days were painful but I was slowly getting better. The antibiotics killed my fever and my swollen cheek started looking normal again. By the time I’m typing this, I still have a few stitches and my gums are still healing, but I can finally talk and eat (almost) normally. 

So, that was my very unfortunate and unforgettable week. I may have had, like, 72 mental breakdowns during those five days but honestly, looking back, that shit was so funny. 

Anyway, thanks for reliving my horrible-ass week with me. I hope my suffering brought you some joy.