The first time I posted this, some people did not heed my warning about food and the disasterous affects this story may have upon it. So listen up! If you’re near food, or ever considering eating in the near-future, don’t read this.
Back at Beale AFB again, going to the dental clinic for the first time. Gotta keep the teeth in good shape, yes?
The little technician said, “Ooo, you have a few impacted molars. I have to get the doctor.”
Off she trotted, returning with the doctor.
“Yup, Airman Howell, you need surgery to get those removed. I’m not doing those, though. Those look mean. Gonna send you to Travis AFB and have a specialist work on you.” And he kicked me out of the clinic.
A few days later, I drove to Travis for our operation. I sat in the chair and a Lieutenant Colonel strolled in.
“Hello Airman Howell, I’m Dr. X, chief of dental surgery. I saw your case and grabbed it for myself. Let’s have some fun.”
They rolled up my sleeve for an IV and I waited for the shots in my jaw to prevent the pain of the extractions.
And woke up 12 hours later. Holy crap, they totally knocked me out. Wasn’t expecting that. Where am I?
Turns out I was in a recovery room with three other guys. My clothes were still on, but there was sling around my head holding ice against my jaw. My face was the size of a Buick. Apparently Doctor X had inserted a pumpkin into my skull.
Pumpkin. Food. My god I was hungry. Before the surgery, I had been told not to eat for 12 hours prior. It had basically been a day since I’d eaten and the hunger pangs were tremendous and non-stop.
Food. Must have food. So I hit the little red button on the box next to the bed and the stewardess came in.
“Cab I’b hab subbtin ta eah?” I muttered through the pumpkin and ice bag.
“No, Airman Howell. You just had your molars removed; you can’t have any food yet.” And off she skipped.
D@mn. Dejected and hungry, I just slumped in the bed, totally stunned. No food? This was not acceptable, but what to do…
I did have my checkbook. I had a bed-side phone. Somebody must deliver to the hospital, no?
Hmm… dial 9 for an outside line… 800-555-1212 for toll-free information.
“Hello? Yes, I’d like the number for Dominos Pizza please. Yes, you certainly many connect me, thank you.”
“Hello Dominos Pizza, what’s the number to a Dominos franchise near Travis AFB? Why thank you. Yes, you may connect me, thank you.”
“Hello Dominos? Yes, I’d like to place a delivery order to Travis AFB. One large cheese pizza. Pepperoni. Yep, that’s it. I’ll be using a check today. OK, Travis AFB, the hospital… looking out the window, I think I’m on the 3rd floor. My phone says my room is 312. Forty five minutes is great, wonderful. Thank you!”
BUWAHAHAH!! Food incoming!
Now as I said, there were three other patients in the room. Two of them were out cold, but the person directly across from me was not only awake, but had a gaggle of doctors surrounding his bed. Apparently his jaw had been reconstructed with bone from his leg and was a mini-celebrity in the hospital. And this phalanx of doctors and nurses was still interviewing the guy when a very loud knock disturbed the peace of the room.
“Pizza for Howell?!”
And I pulled back my curtain a little, sat up a bit, poked my still ice-bagged noggin out and said, “MEPPH!”
Delivery guy didn’t break a stride, just delivered the pie, took my check, high-fived me, and took off for parts unknown.
Nothing has ever smelled as good as that pizza. Cruel, evil, short stewardess be d@mned, I was gonna eat!
As I performed some very intricate prayers of thanks to the Dominos God, the gaggle of doctors across from me was staring. Then they started talking amongst themselves, and finally a nurse took of like a shot out the room.
Irrelevant! Who cares! Gonna eat! And I opened the box and there it was. Beautiful. DaVinci never did better work. Gimme gimme gimme! I reached for it… and grabbed nothing but air.
It was gone!
The stewardess stood there, having swiped my pizza. Seriously, she grabbed it, held it over her head, and taunted me!
“Thanks for the dinner, we’re gonna enjoy it,” she announced, and flounced out of my life, my treasure in tow.
I was bewildered. I had no food, then I got food, then I had no food again. How did this happen? Yes, I’d been sedated, but I didn’t just imagine the pizza, it was here just a minute ago…
And a doctor came in. He had a bowl of something that he placed in front of me.
“Airman Howell, you can’t have pizza. Seriously, you just had your molars removed; you’ve got great big holes in your jaw. If you’re so hungry that you got pizza delivered to the surgical recovery room, you can have this, but no more pizza. No Chinese, no anything, OK?”
Chicken soup. I had pizza, and now I have chicken soup. Well, it’s not like I can fight the guy for the pizza, I was outnumbered. And sedated. And hungry. And had a 20lb bag of ice strapped to my cranium.
Fine. Whatever.
The broth was good. The chicken itself… it was the worst chicken of any kind I’d ever had. Ever. Tough doesn’t begin to describe it. Stringy, hard, basically garbage. But at this point, who cares, it’s food. I ate it all, picking pieces of the trash-chicken out of my teeth and swallowing them all.
The doctor came back, saw my empty bowl and asked, “How was it?”
“Well,” I mumbled, “I really appreciate the food, but the chicken was god-awful. Seriously, man, just the worst thing ever. I don’t want to complain, but nobody would ever eat that chicken unless they were tranquilized out of their mind.”
He looked at me, puzzled and quiet. Then he said, “Open your mouth.”
He took out a flashlight, held open my swollen jaw, and examined thoroughly. He pulled away, satisfied with his exploration, and sat on the bed beside me.
“Airman Howell, you know you have great big holes in your jaw, right? Where your teeth used to live, and now don’t, there are holes. Well these holes like to bleed. They bleed a lot. So the surgeon put stuff in there to keep the bleeding down.
“There was no chicken in your soup, it was just broth. You just ate one of your bloody, molar-hole gauze pads.”
And he got up and walked out of the room, while the guy with the reconstructed jaw laughed so hard, he actually hurt himself.
Yum chicken?
Finger-lickin’ good!
That. is. gross. I had the same type of surgery. It hurts like the dickens.
I’m having my breakfast while reading this >.<
I remember this from the BRK days, still makes me laugh.
Hilarious. The shenanigans you’ve been part of are simply awesome. This one is especially funny. I’ve chewed the inside of my cheek so badly i was gushing blood into my mouth when I had simple cavities filled. I can only imagine how a bloody gauze pad would taste
Yeah I had the same thing. Bye-bye molars.
The holes are really good for collecting food. On the plus side I was half-expecting you to have eaten parts of your gum or tongue or something, so that’s ok – I’m always scared I’ll bite part of my tongue off whenever I have a local.
This is precisely why I didn’t have impacted molars taken out until nearly three years after separating. I watched many an unsuspecting Airman fall prey to the old “Get ‘em taken out while you’re still in and don’t have to pay for it” ploy.
It wasn’t until after their procedures had them laid up for three or four days with dry sockets and they were swallowing the AF standard-issue 1000mg Motrin by the handful like Spanish peanuts that they realized not everything is paid for with money.
I had knee crop up during basic, and followed me to Keesler. I requested to have a specialist look at it in the summer of 1991.
Time went by, and the problem subsided. Finally, I got a notice that the request was going to finally be fulfilled.
What request? Oh, *that* request.
There could easily have been an Airman-Howell-like moment in which a young Airman would have strode into their commander’s office and requested permission to follow through on the appointment. The Air Force is big on the whole failure-to-go thing, after all.
The kicker: The notice was placed during tech school, about seven months earlier, and I was at now at my duty station in Colorado Springs for nearly three. I figured TDY was out of the question, but there are braver souls than I…
Keep up the fine work.
For all service men and women past and present:
http://oath-keepers.blogspot.com/
Yep. That’s the Monday Morning Laugh Out Loud!
God, I remember when this happened and you told the story…I always laugh my butt off. Epic.
Ahahaha, this story has always reminded me of the beginning of Chapter 86 of Cryptonomicon
You may not be bloging WOW but, I still love reading your stories, and I look forward to the day when you have your book published.
Hey Daniel I read your WoW blog since you pretty much started it, and don’t remember seein this one… I think I must have mentally blocked it. LOL
No where near food, and I’m sick to my stomach. Still was hilarious!
Thanks for keeping me entertained for so long!
ah yes still good for a laugh the second time
Nom nom nom. Proof that everything tastes like chicken.
…
…
AHAHAHHHHAHAAAAHHAHH!
*breathe*
MUAHAHHAHAAHAHAHAAAHAHH!
Man thats just… wow.
I’ve been cruising your blog forever and a day. May I suggest a sitcom? You should’ve had your own reality show my friend.
/WINCE
Another awesome story from Airman BRK! Thanks for keepin us on the up and up!
Oh my God, Daniel! *laughs* I guess I missed this one on your old blog, but it had me laughing so hard!
I haven’t had any molars removed (yet), but I’ve had to have neck surgery before and that 12 hours without food is horrible. (Only for me, it was smuggled cereal.)
On the bright side, at least the bloody gauze pad tasted better than that Domino’s pizza would have.
Man, now I want pizza
You seriously need to write a book sir
“Airman Howell, Master of Air Force shannigans”
Was a great read as usual, thanks D
OMG DISGUSTINGGGGG
but awesome <3
love the stories keep em up
I remember when I first read this one back in the old BRK days. I told the story to a group of my friends later that week. The look on their faces when i got to the end was priceless! Keep up the good work Mr. Howell. A buddy of mine and I used to read BRK every day, we both played WoW, but our favorite part of the blog was your sense of humor and impeccable story telling. I for one, am very glad you decided to keep writing.
Ian
Hahahaha! that was great good morning read
Being in that particular line of work, myself, nothing really surpised me or grossed me out.
Except for you managing to get Dominos to deliver to the recovery ward – fantastic work there, Airman Howell! Just don’t do it again…
Loving these stories.
That is hilarious! And the warning was effective – with sufficient anticipation of the oncoming gross-out, I was able to maintain some semblance of an appetite. I think I’ll have pepperoni pizza for lunch!
Great story. Gonna use it next time I want extra food. Used to tell stories like this when I was a Corpsman. Others in the chow hall would give me their food, even if they were there with me. Great stuff. My chili never tasted so good.
… I got a bad habit of not learning from most of my mistakes…
My brain says good story… my stomach thinks otherwise. I think I’m agreeing with my brain on this one 
I pick the worst time to eat