Mass Exodus from my Mouth

13 Apr

I feel as if this whole ordeal has been a bit anti-climactic. I was really looking forward to having to prove my will power despite a profusely swollen, searingly painful injury to my face.

Instead, I don’t even need the narcotics prescribed and I’m bored out of my mind because I took the whole day off work to store up my energy for the weekend. I feel as if I have been gypped (which b.t.dubbs is a derogatory term see here for your history lesson of the day).

I mean its Friday the freaking 13th! I was asking for something to go wrong and instead the most annoying part of my day was having to make a special phone call to my insurance provider because stupid CVS couldn’t find my identification number so I could fill my scripts. I mean I barely slept last night because I had psyched myself up so much and I’m not even tired.

I suppose I shouldn’t complain, and I also suppose I should explain. (ha unintentional rhyming!)

I got my wisdom teeth out this morning. The plan was simple, get it done, have the day for my body to adjust, and do a few dog sits over the weekend. Monday is a holiday so I’d even have an extra day thrown in for good measure if I was not as well equipped as I thought I was to handle this.

All week this is what I’ve heard:

“You’re crazy! You’ll be in bed all weekend!”

“You should call out sick, you won’t even be able to talk you’ll be so swollen!”

“You can’t get four out at once, you’ll be in excruciating pain!”

“You aren’t being put under?!”

“You are stupid for even thinking this is an option! How dare you tempt fate like this!”

(Ok maybe I exaggerated the last one a bit)

You get the gist. I’ll be in so much pain I’ll be incapacitated and if I try to go to work I will curse the universe for my misery, yada yada yada. I took all this to heart, but I had no other option in my mind, so I prepared myself for the worst. I imagined having to go see people with huge pads of gauze in my mouth and hobbling around just trying to keep hold of the leashes, then crawling back into bed to snatch a few precious hours of sleep before having to pull myself from the minimal level of relief to do it all over again.

Reality: The procedure took about an hour and I drove myself home afterwards. I was barely swollen at all and the little there was is now gone because I was responsible and have been icing my mouth and face. I have 12 vicodin that I may not even use as anything other than candy, because the super Ibuprofen they gave me has been more than enough – even now when all the Novocain is obviously gone. I bought a shit ton of yogurt, apple sauce, pudding, etc, and now I just feel silly and want to eat a steak to prove a point. If it weren’t for my job in the morning, I’d be planning to go out drinking tonight (I will concede that for other reasons beside work that may have been a poorly considered idea, but I’m not going now am I). Not to mention I can talk perfectly fine and move all jaw, neck, face parts easily without shooting pains.

Suffice it to say, I don’t even have to be tough to succeed in my original plan, and I’m trying not to be bitter that no one believed in me from the start.

It does look a little gross in there though…

I’m finding a sick sort of pleasure in looking at it…I almost kept my teeth to make into a necklace but one the broke cause it had a nasty cavity.

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