The Tale of Two Teeth: Part two

In the days since I had my wisdom teeth forcibly removed, I'd found there was a specific source of pain other than the bereft sockets. The stitches. Every time I spoke, chewed (have you ever tried to chew food without using either side of your jaw? ...I didn't think so...), yawned, or stretched my jaw beyond a certain point, the inflexible stitches remained just that way, inflexible. Which of course means my poor shrinking, tender inner mouth protested loudly. Even to the point of bleeding when I sometimes forgot myself and opened my mouth too far or yelled (yes, I do that sometimes) at Fritha or Jeff (in fun, of course). I'd suddenly find myself clutching my jaw in agony, all the while trying to stifle laughter that insisted on recognition. Cringing, with shoulders hunched, hands on face, brow furrowed, and muffled "ha ha's" escaping through my fingers and out my nose. The sounds I made were rather amusing. I spoke carefully, as though I had wads of gauze in my cheeks, or just avoided talking at all unless it was of vital importance. Of course, it's not like I talk overly much anyway... so the silence in the house didn't really grow. *sigh* Oh well. I found also that there's a lot one could say without actually opening their mouth.

Me: "Mhhph!"
Frith: "What?"
Me: "Hmmph, mmph, mmmh!"
Frith: "Huh?.... arrrgh!"

Which is to say, "Fritha! Don't step in that!"

Maybe it didn't work quite as well as was hoped...

So, yesterday when I went to have the lil buggers removed, the oral surgeon looked in my mouth and said with great aplomb, "Oh, your stitches are a little tight."

You don't say.