~While reading my post, listen to this song for some added entertainment:
So this previous Monday, in the midst of all of the hurricane recovery and earthquake after-effects (or lack, thereof), I had all. four. of my fucking. wisdom teeth. pulled. I was (and still kind of am) in so much pain and it sucked. Big time. Now, the entire time, I was looking forward to the painkillers that I would receive from the dentist. I, in my uneducated state of 18 years, was expecting to receive vicodin. I love vicodin. Who doesn’t love vicodin? I am used to vicodin. Unfortunately, I received percocet, which is just a nice way of saying OXYCODONE.
Now, if you watch criminal shows unhealthily like I do, you have probably heard of this fantastic drug as a common thing which people are killing each other over. And just look at that! The dentist handed it right to me! Now, along with the oxycodone, I have also adventured with anesthesia, amoxicillin, and motrin! Well, let’s just say that the side effects which I received from these magic marvels were….less than desirable. Not only that, but just the recovery from the surgery has been less than desirable as well! I have for you a mental diary, which I will now attempt to decode and make sense of.
I find myself in a strange chair with many masked people looking over me. My vision is blurry. My caretakers, as I have suddenly come to call them, are sticking various types of utensils into my mouth. For some reason, I can feel nothing except for a constant itch on my nose. I believe that I just went to scratch it, but one of the smaller, feminine caretakers held my hand down and scratched my nose for me. What a kind gesture, feminine caretaker. I wonder what is happening right now in this strange room. My back still hurts from my tattoo, but it is bearable as HOLY SHIT I’M AWAKE IN THE MIDDLE OF MY WISDOM TEETH SURGERY! WHAT THE FUCK?! PUT ME BACK UNDER! PUNCH ME IN THE FACE! SOMEONE FUCKING ACKNOWLEDGE THIS!!!!
*A half hour later*
I have awoken in the same strange chair with no memory of me waking up in the middle of my surgery. Could it really have been about 45 minutes since they put me under? I don’t even remember closing my eyes. My tongue is swollen and I can hardly open my mouth, let alone feel it. The nurse said that I can sit in the waiting room, and so I stand up to go there. I still feel nothing. I am led to the small room where my mother is sitting, and she smiles at me and HOLY SHIT I WOKE UP IN THE MIDDLE OF MY SURGERY!
*Two hours later*
Feeling has come back to my mouth, and I’ve been trying to sleep in the car as we drive out to our summer house for my recovery. I’ve tried to drink something, but I had to look in the mirror of the car to make sure that I had the rim of the glass to my lips, as I couldn’t feel anything at the time. My mom keeps asking me questions, to which I can only grunt responses. Why does she keep talking to me? I’m trying to sleep, and I can’t answer her to begin with. We should’ve been there a half hour ago, but we had to stop and pick up my medication, and then we had to top off the gas, and then we had to stop at the office, and then my sister had to come and talk to me for some reason, and then my grandma had to come and talk to me for some reason, and why does everyone keep talking to me?!?!?! I need more drugs.
I have awoken to find my face horrible swollen. I look like a freakish chipmunk (and don’t even ask for pictures because they’re not coming), and worse of all is that the swelling is disproportionate, and of course, this is my biggest concern. Because my bottom right tooth had broken through, that side of my face is hardly swollen at all, and so I can’t even bare to look in the mirror and gaze upon my unsymmetrical face. I lay here in bed with nothing but a book of sudoku puzzles to entertain myself with, as the power still has not come back on from the hurricane. It is hot without air conditioning. All of my medication is making the numbers in my sudoku book dance around the page. There was an itch on my toe. I reached down to scratch it, but found no toe there to scratch. Where have you gone, toe? Why are no longer attached to my foot? I looked down to see where my toe had gone. My hand was down my pants.
I have found that I am capable of getting out of bed today, and so my mother, my aunt, and I ventured to my cousin’s empty house to use his shower. It felt nice to bathe, only now my face hurt to a new extreme, and for some reason, everyone keeps talking to me….still. Not only that, but my tattoo is now entering it’s final stage of healing, and it itches like a motherfucker. I must not itch it, though, as this may damage it. When we venture home, we find that there is still no power, and so my mother and aunt venture to Starbucks to use the free wifi there, leaving me home to take care of Sammy, our dog. After a few hours, the power comes back, and I am able to watch television. Hooray! My mother and aunt return home, and my mom begins complaining about my laptop and how it does not hold the charging cable as tightly as she would like. “Wait!” I say, lifting my now charged phone to my ear to listen to my voicemail as she shows my aunt, “I’ll show you how to do it.” “AND IT JUST KEEPS FALLING OUT!” she says loudly to my aunt. “WELL YOU NEED TO PUT IT IN DIFFERENTLY!” my aunt squawks back, the two of them speaking like a pair of chickens in the coop. “Wait,” I say, holding up my hand, pleading with them to stop fidgeting with my precious, precious laptop, “just let me show you.” “BUT SEE HOW EASILY IT FALLS OUT?” my mother shouts in appaul-ness. “WELL JUST WORK IT IN!” my aunt responds. “JUST STOP!” I finally grunt, still unable to move my teeth/stand, and snatch the computer away. Too late. They broke. my fucking. laptop. My precious, precious laptop. Possibly the reason I live and breathe at this point in my life, broken.
I’M STILL PISSED ABOUT MY LAPTOP AND MY MOUTH FUCKING HURTS AND THEY MADE ME LEAVE THE HOUSE TODAY AND GO OUT IN PUBLIC AND IT’S HOT AND I’M TIRED AND WHY WON’T THE MOTRIN FUCKING KILL THE PAIN AND MY TATTOO ITCHES AND I JUST WANT TO GO ON FACEBOOK AND MY FRIEND WANTS TO SKYPE WITH ME AND I AM NOT VERY HAPPY RIGHT NOW.
My dad keeps playing his guitar. One my list of things that I hate with a burning, seething passion, it is the guitar. Just in general, I hate the instrument, and ever if I cover my ears, I can still feel the vibrations from him playing it. I lay in bed with my headphones on, not necessarily listening to music half of the time. It’s time to invest in ear plugs.
And now I’m here! I am feeling slightly better but still get tired easily. I can eat food, my tattoo itches, I’m not going back to school next week with a laptop and I’m more than bitter about it, and I have finally gotten a chance to get back on here!
Thanks for reading my little story of pain and suffering and delirium! I’m bitter about my laptop! My tattoo really itches! My face is back in proportion but still swollen! And finally, MY MOUTH FUCKING HURTS!
Oh, PS – The polls have spoken, and everyone voted for YouTube, but no Twitter! (Thank fucking God). So, when I get my laptop back (which, did I mention, will be AFTER I GO BACK TO COLLEGE…..WHERE A LAPTOP IS A NECESSITY), I will get that all up and running. Look forward to it!