Writers in the Storm

A blog about writing

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October 22, 2024

5 Valuable Writing Lessons from Dry Socket

by Jenny Hansen

Photo of dog feeling under the weather as time passes.

I had a tooth pulled last month -- my very first -- and it did not go well. I had pain, nausea, swelling, and all those apparently usual things. Three or four days later, the pain went from about a four or five out of ten to “someone is chiseling my face from my jaw to my eyeball with a rusty drill bit.” I'd developed something called Dry Socket,

Frankly, when my primary care doctor texted me that term, I thought he'd gotten autocorrected. I had no idea what he was talking about. But what you don’t know can indeed hurt you, both in your mouth and in your manuscript.

Read on, my friends. You can let me know how I do at bringing my hilariously sad story back around to writing. Plus, I could sure use some sympathy down in the comments for yet another unfortunate health experience.

What is Dry Socket?

A quick definition... Dry Socket is a dental complication, involving exposed bone and nerves, that can happen after a tooth extraction, especially for an upper tooth. I had a perforated sinus to go with mine, which means five people wanted to come look in my mouth when I went to the dentist for pain management. It would have been hilarious if I hadn't felt like I wanted to divorce my face.

I heard things like:

  • "I've never seen anything like that before."
  • "Look at how far that hole goes up."
  • "So that's her sinus?"
  • "How do you fix that?"
  • WHOA.

It felt like a dental school in my cubicle.

Speaking of lessons...

#1 – Never Forget About Murphy

Murphy’s Law says that “whatever can go wrong, will go wrong.” Writers know this law well.

For example, we know the NaNoWriMo challenge comes in the very worst month for those in the US. There are several holidays in November, including the labor-intensive Thanksgiving holiday. Plus, it’s cold and flu season right around that time.

I literally never won NaNoWriMo until I did the following three things:

  1. Got a NaNo Buddy (Julie Glover rocks!) who incentivized me to show up, and who dragged me across the 50K finish line when I fell behind.
  2. Stockpiled my words earlier in the month, so I could enjoy my birthday and those aforementioned holidays.
  3. Found a reliable dictation tool. I "talked" my story out on days when my energy or creativity was low.

At the end of the day…

Since I’m optimistic, I generally plan for the worst and hope for the best. But sometimes, something (like stupid Dry Socket) is so unexpectedly craptastic that there is no way to plan. Then you must employ Lesson #2.

#2 – "This Too Shall Pass"

My mama gave me this one early in life, while my parents were going through a fairly vicious divorce. She was right.

We all have those no good, terrible, awful days. Days so dreadful that it would be easier to just go back to bed and start over. Weeks when we truly don’t think we’ll get to the weekend. Months marked by angst and strife.

They pass. They might bring lingering hurt or grief or anxiety, but they pass.

As Winston Churchill said, “If you're going through hell, keep going.”  And “never, never, never give up.”

#3 – Seek Out Advice (early and often)

New writers tend to spend a lot of time on learning and development. I’ve talked before about all the time I spent bumbling around as a newbie, and all the things I wish I’d known much earlier. If you were or are like me, you might not even understand some of the writing lessons you learn until many years later. That is normal and a necessary part of the process because new knowledge is usually built on old knowledge.

Back to my Dry Socket…

I don’t know about you, but I am useless when medicated.

According to my husband, the nurse who walked my sedated self to the car put the post-operative care instructions in my hand. Four days later when my extraction site exploded with pain, I had no memory of this. I'd have sworn on a stack of Bibles that I never got them.

It went like this:

All weekend, I alternated between leaving desperate messages at the only number I had for the dentist, and wishing I had the man's cell phone number.

When my sainted Hubs said, “Let me double-check to see if it’s listed somewhere on the instructions,” my answer was, “What instructions?!”

“The ones they handed you after the surgery," he said. "I thought you read them.”

That’s when the fight started.

Plus, I called the office bright and early the next day on Monday and brought the fight to their door. "Those instructions should have been sent to me before the procedure. And, by the way, can someone look in my mouth TODAY and make this pain go away?"

[For the record, it took at least another two weeks for the pain to dial back from "fourteen out of ten" to a four.]

#4 – We can do hard things.

Writing isn’t for sissies. Neither are health challenges. I know I’m not the only one here who's had both.

These are three tried and true mechanisms that help me get through stalled manuscripts and trying health moments:

a) Do at least a tiny piece of your to-do list every day.

Sometimes, all that means is thinking about your story, or re-writing the list so the tasks are broken into smaller pieces. Sometimes that means half, or maybe even a whole scene. But usually you will feel better if you have done at least one thing on your list, even if it’s not a great day.

b) On really hard days, give yourself grace. Trust that you will get back to it.

c) It’s okay to do other work.

Some days you hate your story. You want to throw it in the toilet and go write something new. You can’t think of a single thing to say, or a scene just isn’t working. Those are the best times to use your creative energy in a different way. Some of my favorite alternatives are cooking or baking, gardening, knitting, reading, or writing a bonus scene.

Often those things will let off my frustration enough that I can do the thing I set out to do. If not, give yourself that grace and know you'll get back to it another day.

#5 – Stress Wastes Time

Time is finite and so is your sanity. You can’t get time back you’ve lost, wasted or misused…but adding anxiety on top of it wastes more time.

I’ve stressed about time for as long as I can remember. Did I use it wisely? How could I have used it better? How much more could I have gotten done if…

I’ve also wasted plenty of time worrying about time.

Worrying about being productive can paralyze you with stress, to the point that you’re less productive. And all the cortisol dumped into your system from all that stress causes even bigger issues.

During my cancer battle last year, I let that unproductive habit go. Wasting time by stressing out about time seemed colossally stupid when I was spending all my time trying to stay alive. I spent hours each week in the infusion center, days in bed, months recovering from surgery. I’m still here so I consider it time well-spent.

Imagine how worse off I'd have been if I'd added worries about time to my recovery. Imagine how much longer your manuscript will take if you add worry to your creative process.

Joy is what makes your muse sing, not stress.

Back to all of you... Have you had dental, health, or life challenges that provided valuable writing lessons? Have you ever had the dreaded Dry Socket? I can't wait to hear your stories down in the comments!

* * * * * *

About Jenny

By day, Jenny Hansen provides brand storytelling, LinkedIn coaching, and copywriting for accountants and financial services firms. By night, she writes humor, memoir, women’s fiction, and short stories. After 20+ years as a corporate trainer, she’s delighted to sit down while she works.

Find Jenny here at Writers In the Storm, or online on Facebook or Instagram.

Top photo purchased from Depositphotos. Artist's portfolio here.

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25 comments on “5 Valuable Writing Lessons from Dry Socket”

  1. The week of Nov. 5, 2024, it will have been 35 years since I go an infection at a physics meeting which turned into ME/CFS. A bunch of years later, a 'surgeon' destroyed my spine - and I can no longer walk.

    And even my husband commented tonight that he's concerned about my pain.

    I still look for those little bits of days when I can write, and have made a whole system out of necessity, so I can work on a tiny piece of the book when all I can focus on seems to be the next few breaths (though I get nothing done on most of those days).

    It's bad right now - it may get better. If the long covid 'researchers' ever figure out how to fix the post-viral illness people in the world right now, it is possible it might apply to me.

    But at 75, I don't have a lot of expectations. I DO however, fully intend to finish the mainstream trilogy I'm writing. Hope that's in the cards.

    Sorry you have so many health challenges - I really do understand. Hang in there, work when you can, and, more importantly, CALL IT GOOD ENOUGH.

    Pat yourself on the back or head (whichever hurts less) and, in the immortal words of Firefly (don't quote me - I'm lousy with accurate wording), THAT MAKES US MIGHTY.

    Mighty is cool.

    1. Mighty IS cool. I thought of you when I wrote parts of this post, because I know you experience the type of pain and fatigue that has no reprieve. Personally, I think you're a 75 year-old badass. Your stories here at WITS inspire me to work harder and to keep going.

  2. I'm glad your tooth pain has subsided. What a horrible experience.
    Thanks for your words of wisdom. It's all about giving yourself space and permission to fail sometimes.

    1. I agree, VM! On all counts. Permission to fail, and grace when you do is huge. That Dry Socket was a total surprise to me. It hurt almost as bad as a double mastectomy, and that's saying something!

  3. Oof! I had a root canal that got infected on the first day of a vacation, and that was bad; I truly empathize. That bit with a crowd examining it sounds like a couple of situations I've had. One was a head injury that the doctor used as a teaching opportunity for a group of techs: "Now y'all see that? That's his skull."

    The other was once when I had bacterial pneumonia and an abscess in my chest that collapsed a lung. Felt like a truck was parked on my chest. That was actually hilarious. Once I got to the ER I was in the ICU in what seemed like two minutes with a chest tube between my ribs connected to a pump draining the abscess and IVs in both arms, one for antibiotics and one for saline to rehydrate me.

    Next morning I was in my ICU bed and the two attending doctors came in with their flock of half a dozen docklings. One attending put her stethoscope on my chest and said she heard a murmur. The second attending put her stethoscope next to the first one and agreed, then waved the docklings over. They all put their stethoscopes in a little circle around the first two. Eight stethoscopes, eight heads bent over me intently listening. I looked toward the door and saw a nurse, silently laughing so hard she had to hold onto the door frame. At that I couldn't help it and burst out laughing too.

    I'll just say that experiences like those have considerably lengthened the yardstick I use to measure bad days.

    1. Right on, Jim. Perspective is everything. I can perfectly picture you and your eight ducklings in hilarious detail. And really, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right? (Right???) 🙂

    1. I hear you, Glenda! It was a massive stressor for me. I think it has something to do with my medium case of ADD and that feeling of being bad at managing time. Nothing makes you forgive yourself for poor executive function like a fight with cancer!

  4. My mother experienced a dry socket way back when, and I hope never to go through that! I’m sorry you had to suffer such intense pain. Your tips are helpful—and my eye caught on dictation! What’s your preferred dictation tool?

    1. So sorry your mom went through that!

      When I was recovering from my surgery last November, I couldn't use my arms at all, so I tried out several. Word has it built in now, and so does Google Docs. Google got the highest rating from everyone I asked, but I didn't want to have to copy back and forth into Scrivener. In fact, I used Scrivener's tool for an unusual reason. It sucked at grammar and spacing, so I could clearly see what work was finished and what wasn't. I'd go back over it again and make it look pretty, so I essentially got two drafts in one sitting. It worked for me.

      I'd try all of them, and see which one works best for you.

  5. Note to all - we are still fighting with our comment section. The nesting is broken on the front-end of the blog and we don't know why yet. My comments nested because I did them in the back-end, on the WordPress dashboard.

    When you respond to someone, just use their name at the beginning so they can find you. Many thanks for your patience!

  6. Thank you so much for this timely blog. Your words have helped deal with my loopy mind as the drugs flow throw my system as I heal. You are so right, this too shall pass,

    1. It WILL pass. And those painkillers are meant to shield your mind and body from the pain. It's no wonder that shield equals memory loss. I can never remember anything after narcotics!

  7. Jenny, I'm so sorry about what you went through! I know what it feels like when medical "professionals" (I use the quotes as a former nurse) gather around and talk about you like you can't comprehend a word they're saying!

    It happened to me when I had a root canal done. And when I had my first extraction as a teenager. Because I had entangled roots, my dentist set up an appointment for me to have the molar removed by an oral surgeon. I went to the appointment haven been given NO instructions and I didn't know enough to ask. My mother, being a caring mother, insisted I eat breakfast before going.

    After looking at the x-rays, the oral surgeon decided to give me a general anesthetic but (because I did know SOME things) I told him couldn't have one because I had eaten breakfast. The logical thing to do would have been to reschedule the appointment, but no. He insisted on going ahead with the extraction with a local anesthetic. Throughout the operation, during which I felt like he was trying to break my jaw, he complained to his dental assistant about all the work he had to go through because my mother had stupidly (in his loud opinion) told me to have breakfast. He also spent considerable time swearing and complaining not only about my tangled roots and how difficult the tooth was to remove, but about my ridiculously--and inconveniently--small mouth. It would have been much easier on him if he had succeeded in breaking my jaw.

    I don't mean to bash dentists. They do necessary work. Besides, I've had experiences with other medical personnel. But sometimes they forget the patient is a human being.

    Anyway, great job at being able to connect insights about writing while sharing your highly relatable story of misery.

    I'm glad you're doing better.

    All the best, Christine 🙂

    1. Christine, that sounds awful! I too had extensive dental and oral surgery work in my tweens/teens and it is really frightening. We don't know anything at that point, so it all feels huge. No wonder you became a nurse!

      p.s. I grew up around nurses and I love them. My mama (oncology), my aunt (ER), and their best friend (OB/Gyn Recovery). 🙂

  8. Well, one of the things 65 years of people-watching has revealed for me is that whenever someone is really funny, they've earned it. Humor is a coping tool for stress, pain, and grief, and it's like a muscle - if someone has biceps like iron, they've probably had to use those arms a lot.
    So - stronger, I don't know, but what doesn't kill you definitely makes you funnier.

  9. Jenny, yikes! I am so sorry you endured that. Never knew what dry socket was. Makes my root canal post-op pain seem insignificant. Last year was my health challenge, an eye issue that made it tough to make it through day job. No spoons left for writing. Eventually I could enjoy reading books again. Slowly, worked on paper edits. The issue taught me that critical lesson of giving myself grace. And that, yup, even doing a little editing on paper was better than giving up on my dream because it had gotten harder.

    1. No tooth pain is insignificant, Shari. I think it's the location that makes it so unbearable. I had 38 years of migraines before I figured out I had a gluten allergy, and I'd put tooth pain in the same ballpark as a migraine. That's saying something.

      I'm so glad your eyes are getting back on track. Eye things and hand things are terrifying for writers -- they're our tools.

  10. I have NOT had dry socket, and I hope to never experience that. UGH. Hugs!!! I love all of the valuable advice that you brought out from this. For me, I think that tech challenges have given me some of my best techniques and lessons. For example: when something catastrophic goes wrong and you don't know how to fix it: breathe. Don't rush to do SOMETHING, because that rushing will generally (for me at least) cause more damage than I fix. Then after a few deep breaths, analyze everything. What went wrong? What will make it better? What do I need to do to fix this? And then once I have a plan, implement it carefully. Right after making a backup.

    1. I adore the way you approach tech challenges. I've bordered the IT world for all of my career and I can't count how many times I've watched someone go, "I wonder what will happen if I do THIS...Uh-oh...."

      And for sure you don't want the dreaded dry socket. I was absolutely peeved at how long it took to resolve.

  11. I had a sinus infection that quickly turned to sepsis and cost me a tooth, so I can imagine your pain. I still have the x-ray, and the doctor said it was one of the worst he had seen.

    This year has been a different writing setback. Three deaths in 9 months, and one for which my husband is the executor, and I've helped him with a lot of paperwork, research, and other stuff which comes with handling an estate.

    I need to get back on track with my writing.

    1. That sounds absolutely miserable - sepsis is scary AND painful. No one talks about that part. And I am so sorry for your losses, Denise. Losing one person is hard enough. I can't imagine dealing with all of it in such a short timeframe.

  12. Jenny, God bless your mother! Oncology's tough. Then again, OB/Gyn (and Peds) can be a lot harder than people realize.

    Thanks for your consistently helpful posts and for always responding.

    All the best! 🙂

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