The voice comes back and says, “If you are still on the line and haven’t hung up out of frustration, please press four. In order to ensure the accuracy of this conversation, please state your name and then spell your name starting with your first name. Please enunciate clearly and do not use nicknames or names your spouse uses when the garbage bag breaks and spills garbage all over the carpeted floor.
“Please state the four-digit number of the year you were born.” I respond with “1937.” (There is laughter in the background and a whispered phrase is heard, “We got an old one.”)
At this time, I am very frustrated because the blood from the extractions that were made to make room for an upper plate is now dripping all over the floor. I look in the mirror and see ... Dracula.
Finally after a series of clicking noises a real live person comes on line and announces that our conversation was being taped to ensure quality control. She says her name is Tanya and asks how she can help me.
Without any upper teeth, I sound like Gabby Hayes from the days of the old Westerns. I try to explain my situation to Tanya with my mouth full of gauze sponges.
“I’m bweeden,” I say, “helfme.” (As I write this my spellchecker is going crazy.)
Tanya parrots back, “You’re bleeding from a recent extraction?” I answer “Yef.” She then announces that my troubles are over — all I have to do is gently rinse my mouth with lukewarm water loaded with salt.
Tanya closes our conversation by wishing me a happy day and to call if my situation worsens.
I rinse my mouth with the salt water and the bleeding almost stops except for a little seepage. I had been worried about bleeding out after seeing all the blood on the sheets and my nightgown. How many gallons of blood do we have?