Monday morning I had a bone graft procedure.
Some history…
When I was ten years old I was hit by a car. Both of my front teeth came out and had to be re-implanted. Around a year later, one of them broke and I had both capped. The caps lasted around 15 years, until one of them started to fail, crack and break apart. I had it pieced back together and it lasted a little while longer. This past March, one of the failing crown’s roots became infected (I’ll spare you the gory details). As a result, I had to have both of the remains of the teeth extracted. Around a month ago, I had my head scanned to get an idea of the bone density and structure to get an idea of my candidacy for dental implant. As it turned out, my case was non-typical in that usually the front side of the tooth socket needs reinforcement in the form of bone grafting. But in my case, the back side of the socket was completely gone (the surgeon supposed it was a result of the accident) and the front side wasn’t ideal.
So Monday, I went in for bone grafting. It was interesting. I took a couple pre-op loopy pills and Michelle’s parents drove me to the dentist’s office.
This was the third time I went under for oral surgery, so for me it was old-hat. It was different this time in that the surgeon chose to take the time while I was being prepped to explain the change in plan (he added the graft to the front of my arch, in addition to the rear). I don’t remember where the conversation left off, I think I was conscious for around 10 seconds after he said “and a little pinch” somewhere mid-sentence. After that, I remember being ‘walked’ out the ‘back door’ of the surgery, then sort of coming to in the chair in my living room. Apparently, I danced with Chel’s dad, Mike, at some point; he probably foolishly asked me, “are you alright?” and I responded with a jig.
As for the bone grafting, he harvested a piece from each of my wisdom tooth extraction sites in my lower jaw and put pieces of bone on each side in the front of my upper arch. Now, I’ve got sutures at the back of my lower jaw and a line of them on the back side of my upper arch behind the front four teeth.
So, now I look like a chipmunk from the swelling where the surgeon harvested the bone.

Here’s a picture of me looking like a chipmunk.