| Has one ever experienced a Thanksgiving Break that one will never forget? A memorable Thanksgiving Break means a memory that made one laugh, cry, or just smile. Good or bad memories, they create a feeling that one will remember for a myriad of years. A break that involves something different than any other resembles a most memorable Thanksgiving Break. One Thanksgiving Break that I will never forget occurred in the year of 2003.
In 2003, the morning after Thanksgiving, I had eight teeth extracted. Most people cringe when I describe the types of teeth that the oral surgeon pulled.
“Four adult teeth, impacted in my gums. There is more,” I would say, “the oral surgeon needed to extract four baby teeth before she could slit my gums.”
When someone asks me, “How does this make your Thanksgiving Break memorable?”
I reply, “Memorable? Ha! I think of my extractions as a lesson learned. The part that creates a durable memory involves the aftermath of the surgery.”
When I awoke the morning of my surgery, my empty stomach grumbled. The time I awoke did not bother me. I typically wake at 6:24 AM in order to arrive at school on time. The part that bothered me consisted of my vacant stomach. A prodigious breakfast generally sends me on my way into the new day. That day, however, I could not eat any food before my surgery. Breakfast energizes my mind and helps me concentrate on what I have to do. Therefore, having no breakfast made me lethargic and extremely hungry.
After I arrived at the waiting room, an immense wave of uneasiness slowly tingled up my spine. The musty, tightly cramped waiting room had the feeling of restlessness intertwined in its structure. As I sat in the waiting room my body felt small and out of place. The time seemed unusually slow, leaving me with excess time; sitting, waiting, and thinking about having the doctors cut me open. A couple of minutes after my allotted surgery appointment, the nurse finally entered the waiting room and interrupted my thoughts.
“Kelsey, the doctor would like to see you in Room Four.” the nurse said quietly and politely.
As my mother rose from the chair she saw me still sitting. “Come on pumpkin!” she said encouragingly.
I tentatively rose from the chair. Saying nothing, I followed the nurse into a cold, plain white room with one off green, big, reclining chair in the center. As I cowered in the corner, Dr. Kimberly Silloway kindly invited me to sit in the big chair. I quickly shuffled forward, trying to hide my fear.
The next thing I knew a big blue rubber band encased my arm above my elbow. As I worried about my arm loosing circulation, a needle that seemed the size of a stingrays tail appeared next to me. My big worry now involved the needle, not the tightly wrapped rubber band. All of the nurses appeared calm as they hovered over me. They handled the needle gingerly, treating it like a friend. As they inserted the needle into my arm above my elbow, I started to fade into a deep sleep. The nurses talked in faint voices as I drifted to sleep.
“What color does your car appear, honey?” the nurse said, trying to distract me from the pulsing pain in my arm.
“Gold…” I replied in an unarticulated voice, as I wandered to sleep.
Once I awoke from the anesthesia, I could not feel my face. It did not take long for me to realize how light headed I felt. Unsure of my surroundings, my world seemed oblique. When I exited the office, I tried to open the door. This resulted in me almost fainting. My mother helped me back into the dull waiting room. A couple minutes later, we left the building with a nurse who assisted in hoisted me into the car.
When I arrived home, my mouth could not tolerate any type of food besides cold liquids and ice cream. My menu consisted of milk, milkshakes, and ice cream. I digested an ample amount of dairy products the day after Thanksgiving in 2003. By the end of the day I hated milk, ice cream, and milkshakes. The day after my surgery, my mouth continued bleeding and I still could not eat any base foods but the bleeding lessened and I could eat eggs with cheese towards the end of the day.
Many people say ice cream or other sweets when they answer the question of what one food product they would like to eat for the rest of their life. I now know that I would not answer anything that has to do with sweets because of this Thanksgiving Break. Since I could only eat cold liquids and ice cream after the oral surgeon removed my teeth, I became disgusted with milk. Remembering this experience, I learned that I should not take what I have for granted. Many people throughout the world think of a mere one-fourth cup of milk as a gift. They do not receive the bountiful amount of milk regularly every day like I do. I complained about not having other liquids to drink when tons of people around the world would love having as much milk as I do. My 2003 Thanksgiving Break taught me a lesson I will never forget.