May. 4th, 2014 06:35 pm
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I need to be nice to ya'lls lists. So here's the deal. I'm just going to start cut-tagging things. If it's REALLY important, I'll let you guys know. Otherwise, you can just assume it's me rambling and open at your leisure. I'm going to experiment with Chapter cuts. We'll see how this goes.

Be warned: If you comment on any of the chapters, you will get WALL OF TEXT upon opening the comment page.Anyone know how long Perc withdrawal lasts? )

Soothing Things )

In which I am calm about a racially prompted, social justice issue. Ya'll on my FB get why I'm so proud. )

I hope this way of posting will be easier on you guys.
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I....slept! I SLEPT! Not straight through, of course, but four FOUR hours at one block and then another 2. Four hours in one shot, though, that's progress, right? It is!

I wake up, down the pain meds, and hurriedly eat. I dislike eating first thing in the morning. David always woke up ravenous. Not I. But it's better than starting the morning swimming with both medicine AND nausea.

I think the antibiotics are giving me a yeast infection. Certainly at least a very uncomfortable twat. Time to drag out the Monistat. It's when I realize I want to shove a bristled dildo up myself that I'm like "Oh yeeeeah, you have a yeast infection."

Fabu. But I caught it early enough, so it should be manageable.

I haven't been on antibiotics but twice (this makes number three) in the last twenty years. Again, thanks to having no insurance. Most recently, I'd begged David's father for some leftover antibiotics for a super-flu that I'd caught.

Being as the man doesn't believe in doctors, modern medicine, or seemingly fictitious things like bacteria, he was more than happy to give me the bottle he was last prescribed and never consumed.

I understand people who are afraid of doctors or who dislike them. Doctors are associated with pain and illness. Totes makes sense that people aren't fans of them.

But I don't get people who refuse modern medicine. Foolish. Another wondrous thing about not having to be around David's family anymore - no more having to listen to paranoid rantings about the evil, evil Pharma industry.

I actually occasionally worry about David's mom. Her husband is constantly trying to get her to come off her diabetic medication and just take vitamins. IT'S DIABETES. THAT SHIT WILL KILL YOU IF YOU DON'T TAKE MEDICINE.

Thankfully, the woman seems to have slightly more common sense than her husband. David and his brother have no such compunctions about medicine. His sister dislikes doctors but being as she shattered her knee out a few years ago, is getting used to them.

That's a rage-trigger issue with me. Big Pharma has saved my fucking life. Screw those ungrateful bastards who assume I am some sort of misled, mindless automaton. I am not a victim of the FDA. I am not a sheep. I am not making it up in my head. I am a human being taking advantage of the fact that humanity has miraculously survived 200,000 years.

Progress is awesome. People are stupid not to take advantage of that.

David's father at least never told ME SPECIFICALLY I shouldn't be taking medicine. His whole family was aware that I was on psychiatric medication, though we simply told them I was on meds for my "anxiety."

And it was pretty obvious I was "anxious". Even at my best I am high-strung, nervous and prone to isolating myself in even semi-loud situations. (And they are VERY LOUD people.) So I think they assumed the meds were nesscary. That was good.

Though on vacation with them last year, his father's constant offerings of vitamins to help with my stress got on my nerves. Being as I was in a confined space with them, I simply smiled and said the fillers in those pills gave my indigestion.

Which is not a lie, either. I don't know WHAT they put in those things, but it inevitably gives me an upset stomach.

(SANS one vitamin: Ginger root. It is FABULOUS for nausea. But I only trust it because I saw it on Mythbusters.)

So far this morning I wake up rested and feeling well. Bordering on chipper, even. Certainly talkative. I'm going to go shove in some twat cream, scoop out the catboxes, and get to work on ya'lls stuff.

Listie list

May. 1st, 2014 09:26 pm
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Things that I don't want to get used to but am getting used to:

* Narcotic pain killers

* Drooling

* Sleeping with ice packs

* Sleeping sitting up

* That bizarre 15 seconds or so when (thanks to the pain meds) I'm driving along a stretch of road that I've driven on daily for years and all of a sudden it looks like a road I've never seen nor been on before.

* Sleeping in two hour spurts

* Burning medicinal mouth wash

Positives as of late due to all this:

* I am becoming WAAAY more active on LJ/DW and getting to know all of you so much better

* My kitties have been extra cuddly

* I've discovered a bunch of new relaxing thunderstorm-and-rain-ambient sleep videos

* My teeth are cleaner than they have ever been


* The extra needed home-alone-time has been extra nice because I actually have REAL home-alone-time.

* I've discovered my IRL friends are nice enough to actually come scoop out my catboxes and vacuum for me if I need them to.

* I am, for the first time in my entire life, beginning to ponder the long term consequences of some of my physical habits and how it may affect me. Yes, even the smoking.

(Don't expect miracles. But I am at least thinking about it)

* I've discovered I can still get along and do most of what I need to do, even if I'm in pain, so long as I schedule the activities and subsequent breaks properly.

So I'm trying to be positive. Ish. A little. The soreness was worse today, but that's pretty normal. A few more days and it will all be over.
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Tiger! I had a dream you had HIV! I made you a cup of coffee and asked if you wanted a donut to feel better. Silver Mage and Radium- I dreamed I came to NYC! I wanted to come see you guys but couldn't figure out the subway system!

It all makes me very much wish someday I will be independently wealthy and I can fly in to visit each and every single one of you. Someday!

It was a VERY full day yesterday. The Table of Contents are chronological, as follows: 1) School was Good 2) Cassie Is Crazy But I Realize Something REALLY FUCKING IMPORTANT About Recovery and 3) I rage-found another dentist. There is actually MORE - I'd called upon David for help and we had a wonderful time. And I'd also had an extremely healing conversation with my father later that evening.

But this is going to be a long enough entry as it is. So for now, we'll stick to the top three.

Instead of one usual cut, this one is broken up into several cuts. (Great idea, Nebula!) Pick and choose your chapter as you please.Not hot for teacher, but becoming Okay with teacher )

So all was well in class until I got a persistent series of calls from a strange number. I rarely answer calls in class. My general rule is if it's an emergency, I'll receive a concurrent text saying "ANSWER THE PHONE" or else they'll keep calling. Well, this number kept calling.Cassie and the Knowledge Of Earthquakes )

My mouth was throbbing in renewed pain due to the frustration after the phone call. I went back in class and tapped my foot, annoyed and awaiting the end of class so I could go back to the dentist's office.

I got to the dentist's office at 1 PM.You're a doctor, not a preacher )

This entry was long. So long that I think I've exhausted myself enough to try and sleep again.

I will be reading your journals. No matter how bad I am at commenting, please know I always read. Always. It helps me and besides, Pat often asks about you guys. I talk about all of you - by name - so often.

I love you all. Thank you so much for being a part of this. Thank you. Thank you.
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Percocet does cause migraines. Turns out I am not imagining that. Stuck at school, no excedrin migraine. Drinking mt dew. I hate mt dew. Too sweet. Helping the migraine,

Can't go to the dentist today, have some schoolwork I need to do later today. Won't be able to do it if they jack me up on something. I'll go tomorrow after school.

No tooth pAin. This is good. Eating takes the clove oil off. Not fun. And I'm still tinkering with right dilution formula. Too much clove oil and it just burns. Too little and it doesn't numb.

I know I needed to come to class. Just to park my ass in the seat if nothing else. But holy mother of god, trying to engage in a class discussion (again, there's only three of us, so it's not like I can just be a wallflower) all jacked up on pain meds is uncomfortable.

To say the least.
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I don't have any children for my brain to place in peril, so when my mind decides to have a nightmare in which something I love is being hurt, it's usually a cat. Occasionally Cassie's children will show up, but mostly, cats.

12:30 AM. Nightmare. Click on the lamp. Stumble out of bed for a cigarette. Settle back into bed with the light still on. 2:30 AM, wake up from another nightmare, have another cigarette, decide to catch up on some LJ. When I lay back down, I will leave the light on again.

Also a fantastically annoying dream in which I was late to take David to school and we argued over whether or not I would go at all. There was snow on the ground and I had to pull David from the road to avoid being hit by a school bus. (He was deliberately standing in the way of the bus to throw a fit.)

Cemetery, if you are trying to work on dream recall, seriously, you're doing the right thing. Gone on long enough, it's actually habit you can't unlearn. But you don't have bad dreams often, so that'd be cool for you.

Still no real tooth pain. It's at maybe a 2. Two and a half at max, mostly just discomfort. This is doable. This is absolutely doable.

I was telling Pat while I had no particular fear or dislike of dentists before - and even through this haven't really developed any fears - I HAVE found a growing dislike for dentists. Not uncommon. Pat said that's fine (after all, we don't like things that we associate with pain) so long as it doesn't keep me away from dentists.

This whole thing has taught me I am afraid of pain. Greatly. I didn't know just how scary pain was. Actual, honest to god, fear inducing. Your body is doing things you don't want it to do, you don't know when it will end, etc. It's very frightening.

As I suppose it should be. Otherwise we'd all be walking around with broken bones and whatnot.

Time to lay back down again.
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I am feeling better. How do I know FOR SURE I'm feeling better? Because I cracked a sex joke with Tiger on her journal. (Hee hee.)

I've only had to take one pain med in the last 8 hours. Doing good. I'll be taking the Norco to school with me, since the Percocet hits harder. Though the Percocet gave me the creepy feeling that someone was in the room with me (when I was taking a nap earlier.) Oh well. And I'm still pretty fucking loopy. Like, LOO LOO LOOPY. But. Not. In. Pain.

Suddenly, I'm seeing a light at the end of the tunnel - and it's NOT the Pain Train barreling down on me.

Beautiful spring storms. Asti, it makes me smile to know I can talk about how pretty the storms are here and you know because you are in the same storm!

What was that line from Milo and Otis? Or maybe it Fivel: An American Tail? Something about "We're sleeping underneath the same big sky." That helps me when I'm feeling lonely. That all of you are also underneath the same sky I am. It's a big house, this planet, but we're all under the same roof.

In spring, bats flit about the apartment roofs after sundown. They are adorable.

Sleep. I am soooooo happy. So. Very. Happy. Thank you. All of you - thank you and goodnight.
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Holy shit.

I got desperate and started calling pharmacies for clove oil. Do you carry clove oil? Do you carry clove oil? No. No. No. No. SIX pharmacies before I found one that did.

Sick on Percocet, which hadn't touched the pain at all, I went and drove 10 minutes out, ten minutes back in, to spend 7 dollars on a 1/8th of an ounce bottle of clove oil.

Mixed a couple of drops of that in olive oil, swabbed the mix onto a q-tip, and slapped the mixture onto my gums and teeth.

It. Tastes. TERRIBLE. And stings. I gag. I spit. No relief. I start to cry. Rinse with salt water. Hold the cat against my cheek, as if her soft fur would be soothing to the pain. (It wasn't, but it was a nice thought.)

Try again. Remix it. Reswab it. Gag and spit. Straighten Tentatively. No pain? Open mouth. No pain. NO FUCKING PAIN.

An hour ago I was frantically calling private practice dentists to see if any would see me on a Sunday, even knowing that they would charge me extra for it being 1) the weekend 2) a new patient and 3) for having no insurance. I have rent money. I can spend that. I was willing to spend that.

Didn't have to. Going to eat. Rinse out my mouth with salt water and squirt the squirter thingie.

And then sleep. OH GOD I CAN SLEEP.
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All these pills are doing a number on my stomach. Maybe today will be the day where I take that sudden leap from "Kill me, killmepleaseprettyplease" to "This sucks" and tomorrow will be "Yeah, I think I'll live."I feel a teensy bit more cheerful this morning. This is a good sign. )

All this really, really, REALLY makes me wish I'd taken better care of my teeth. I've always been decent about brushing and flossing daily, but never did much of anything else. AND all the meth I did all those years ago - jesus. Talk about long term consequences.

Cassie is always so sure that I escaped long term consequences from my drug use. Lol, I wish. It makes me wince for her, though, who's been using meth pretty steadily for about 15 years now.

That's gonna be a BITCH for her to take care of eventually. Her whole body is falling apart. She has brittle bones, horrible teeth, an insanely battered immune system. Ulcers, anemia, damaged internal organs. And having given herself TWO heart attacks by the age of 27 (both drug induced, one of which actually flatlined her for several minutes)...well, somedays I'm amazed she's alive at all.

She's only 31.

As Will Shetterly put it, Cassie has "the kind of luck that saves the suicidal and kills innocent bystanders."

I guess the hope is that she'll figure it all out before it all permanently crashes down.

I have cleaning appointments this weekend. I might not make Sunday's appointment. That house consists of heavy cleaning and lots of stairs. I don't think I'm ready for that kind of strain. I'm going to try, though.

I feel like I've been trapped in this apartment forever now. Like my entire universe has shrunk to this tiny, perpetually cat-covered bed and my laptop.

Day Five. Life can't suck forever.

(Or as one beautiful movie put it, "It can't rain all the time." Cheers, Brandon. Cheers indeed.)
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I finally subscribed to LJ's Customers Suck community. Tickles me pink to know that a good number of you guys I met on the original Customer's Suck website 10 years ago!

Also ARRRGH SHIT LIKE THIS: (Drug seeking addict tries to pull a fast one to get an early refill of narcotics)

Crap like this is why I am so damn nervous about telling doctors "No, really, it still hurts. IT ACTUALLY STILL HURTS PLEASE MAKE IT STOP." Because you have assholes like that making everyone else looking suspect.

Well, and assholes like my sister - though she did not so much gather pain scripts to take herself as she did to sell them. Still just as problematic, though.

This is also why I NEVER, EVER discuss my drug history with medical professionals (GP'rs, at least) and forbid others from doing so as well. You can be clean and sober for 70 years but if you have a history in your past, you can forget about getting anything stronger than Ibuprofen. I have no known drug allergies (outside of large doses of SSRI's and benzos, so I make my drug history known to psychiatric doctors) and so the risk is minimal otherwise.

Fuck. That. I know doctors are just trying to cover their own asses because you have assholes who blame their addictions (old or new) on doctors and sue, but still....grrrrrr.

Weeks like this are what make me amazed that anyone sees anything inspirational in me whatsoever. I am grumpy and obsessive about that grumpy. I rattle whatever ails me in my teeth (no pun intended) until it is absolutely shredded. I am compulsive, unable to let a single thought go unverbalized. (Or unwritten, as is my way.) It's not inspiring. It's not interesting.

It's just damned ridiculous.
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So it's Friday and the clinic isn't open again until Monday, to which unless my teeth start actually falling onto my keyboard, I HAVE TO GO TO SCHOOL Monday. So if the pain doesn't abate (and I totally don't think it will, because ha ha, Teressa being in pain is just SOOOOO FUNNNY) I have an extremely sucky 72+ hours ahead of me.

I have enough Norco's to get through - it's just that they aren't doing very much at all today.


*grumble* *grouse*

I also think I'm brining my tongue with how often I am rinsing with salt water. Seriously. Pickle me up and serve me with some chicken and french fries.

Chicken and french fries sounds SO GOOD. If I had energy, I'd likely be murderous for some chicken and french fries right about now.

I might haul my ass out of this self-imposed nudity long enough to drive to a McD's. I can gum down a Big Mac and a shake. Even if I will have to gargle salt water afterwards.
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Fuck this Viva La Toothy crap )

My friend Strangecharm had a marvelous update today on Crazy As A Superpower. I'm feeling INCREDIBLY stupified on meds at the moment, so here's hoping I can do this subject some justice.

Strangecharm was talking about a movie called The Quiet Ones (Eileen - have you seen that one?). In it, the crazy young girl is gifted with supernatural insights and visions. Whether or not this is what drove her crazy or is just a strange side benefit of BEING crazy, I'm not sure.

But what stuck in Strangecharm's craw (and mine as well) is the idea that crazy can be used as a sort of scrying tool. That one would need to supplement crazy with something exceptional in order to "make up" for the egregious flaw of being crazy. Strangecharm used the word "compensation" and I think it fits.

That's terrifically insulting. We as crazy people don't need compensating. And we certainly don't need to have super powers in order to justify our crazy.

It's okay to be crazy and not have any super powers along with it. It's okay to be crazy and not be brilliantly creative, or gifted at painting, or be Rainman, or be anything else that "makes up" for being crazy. It's okay to be crazy in crazy's own right.

It's really annoying that the world thinks otherwise.

Crazy as a substitution for your Manic Pixie Dream Girl also came to mind. The similarities are startling. Crazy people have unusual world views! They wear fun clothing! They dance and sing! They are on medication and say funny things at awkward times!

It's like the world has gotten "crazy" mixed up with "interject some color into my droll little life." Like we crazy people can show you how to not take life so seriously.

Uh, no, motherfucker. I take my crazy pretty seriously. As I said in Strangecharm's entry - my mental health is not anyone's Footlose metaphor for thier mind.

There's a lot I could say about this, actually. And I probably will say more about it. I just have to eat something first, or else the next dose of drugs will not go over well in my stomach.
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For the sort of random: had a brief section on abuse triggers and the dentist's office. I didn't click on it because I thought "What? That's weird."

Well, this morning the dentist had like three fingers in my mouth while I was laying down on the chair below him. It didn't trigger me, I didn't feel unsafe - BUT -

I totally can see where if I had been in a more fragile or anxious state, it would have. There was definitely a feel of my own personal body being physically invaded while I was in a physical position of helplessness. And the fingers in the mouth thing could DEFINITELY feel sexual and assaulting if one had those triggers.

VERY creepy. Good for me to know.

Something that occurred to me:

My friend Kaberett has a writing style and mind similar to David's exgirlfriend. (NOT that I'm accusing you of being her! She is just super smart and scientisty and big on the disability stuff in the same ways that you are!) And it occurred to me that DW and LJ being as small as it is, I'm probably not more than one or two friend-of-a-friends away from that woman.

No, I'm NOT going to hunt her down and friend request her. I reached out to her a few years ago and that ended badly. She wasn't rude or anything (she was actually really nice), but I accidently triggered the shit out of her and I'm pretty sure I ruined her night. Do not want to do that to her again.

It's just odd to think about.

More about Kaberett: Kaberett is autistic. This is a diagnosis some of you share. They have a really neat "This Thing Is About Me, Here Are Some Care and Handling Instructions" page. As I was reading it, I wondered if any of you guys share these same traits.Stuff They Said, Do You Guys Say, Too? )
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Went to the clinic, was seen with no fuss. THANK GOD.

1) There was a lot of food stuck in the hole, causing irritation. They cleaned that out.

2) Apparently the tooth behind it is not only loose, but infected, too. OH - AND IT'S roots were tangled up in the roots of the tooth that got yanked. So that's causing massive problems, the dentist said.

3) I got a prescription for 30 more Norco's. THANK FUCKING GOD. I also got a super soft toothbrush, a syringe to clear out food, and instructions on how to SOFTLY brush the area.

4) Thank you, Seige and Tiger!!! Thanks to the "Tooth Fairy" visiting me, I've gone on a book buying binge. I have like 8 new books on my Kindle and am planning on getting more. GODDAMNIT THIS PAIN WILL BE WORTH ITS WEIGHT IN BOOKS IF NOTHING ELSE!

5) Which is good, because with all the extra poking around they did, my whole mouth is DYING. So I'm gonna load up on drugs and sit in bed for the next FOREVER.

6) Pat is coming over today to help me with housework and keep me company. He will also be doing the driving around.

7) I love you guys. You guys are really helping me through this very scary time. And it is scary.

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I called into school AGAIN today. I'm just too swollen and in too much pain. Even talking to my cats is causing me to bite down on swollen gums, which is making me cry. I'm worried about infection.

And Franken - I hope you are right about being past the danger zone for a dry socket. I'm still being insanely careful, though. I am still smoking ONLY with the gauze in, salt water rinse every time I eat (a gentle, tipping-the-head-side-to-side sort of rinse) and not blowing my nose or doing anything that creates a pressure vacuum in my mouth.

I'm going to call the clinic and see about getting a follow up visit. Failing that, at least another script for pain relievers. I woke up this morning and immediately downed a 5/325 Norco, my last 50 mg Tramadol, an Excedrin Migraine and 2 500 mg Tylenols.

This is getting ridiculous.

(And don't give me any lectures on how hard all that medication is on my liver or kidney. I don't give a flying fuck about my liver or kidney right now. What I care about is being able to breathe without every inhalation feeling like the air is made of chewed up glass.)

The Department Head seems to be understanding - I hope my teacher is. I've been emailing them updates every single school day that I've missed. I've gotten EVERY make up attendance assignment and other assignments in on time (or early), so here's hoping.

In other words - I have been keeping up on my end of the deal when it comes to students missing class. I really hope that is recognized. (I always have a permanent worry that it won't be. Hello, insecurity and inherent distrust in authority?)


Someday I will have dentures. Perfect, fake, wonderful dentures. That will be awesome.

Or I'll be one of those old, toothless grandmas who somehow wind up on a fetish porn site. YEAH, THAT'S A THING. THAT'S AN ACTUAL FETISH OUT THERE. TOOTHLESS GRANDMAS.

At least I wouldn't have to worry about money to feed my cats.
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I need to shower. Showered. Awesome.

It occurs to me that I never went to the dentist as a child. My mother never took us. When I went to get my wisdom teeth out at 24, that was only because Pat's parents were kind enough to pay for it. And that was my first time I'd ever gone to the dentist.

I don't know why my mother didn't take us - at least when we were small children. We were on my father's military insurance - I'm sure we would have gotten good care.

And later? When my mother remarried? Well, taking us to the dentist would have cut into their drug money. What's a few cavities in your child's mouth compared to getting your heroin fix, amirite?

Good times. Good times.
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Day 3. The swelling is still there. I can't tell if it's gone up or down. The pain is still there, too, though it is less. Or at least it TAKES less medication to ease it. I can keep the doses at every four or five hours. (Which is what it was SUPPOSED to be at, but it hurt SO MUCH at first.)

But it is still requiring the prescription pain meds TO ease it. On the other hand, I think I'm getting USED to the medication. At least, I don't feel quite as stoned on it. I'm still not comfortable DRIVING on them, but I am less out of it. THAT'S NICE.

I'm a little worried, though. I didn't have a lot of script meds to start with. (They gave me maybe 4 days worth? And it hurt SO BAD at first I was doubling up on the medication.) I only have maybe another two day's worth of medication. If that. Seeing as it was a walk-in clinic, I'm not sure if I can call up the center and ask for more medication.

It's not like I have a follow up appointment or anything, so I won't be seeing them again (unless it's a dry socket, which GOD NO.)

Like, it might be looked at as drug seeking behavior? I already asked my friends for THEIR drugs, so I don't want to ask them again. It's not like I have a specific dentist I can call and ask for another round of pain medication.

Is there someplace I could go to ask for just another round of pain medication? I wonder if I could go to a minute clinic. I don't know.

Pain scares me. A LOT. Do not want.

I'm feeling pretty stupid for how much this is consuming my life. It was just a damn tooth. But it's REALLY screwing with my life at the moment. I read a lot of people had pain and swelling well into a week after the procedure.

For as many who were able to just get on with their life the day after, there seem to be just as many who took a week or longer to recuperate.

I have to go to school tomorrow. That'll be fun. I'll just time the pain medication so I'm safe to drive.

I've so far avoided dry socket. AWESOME. I can't wait to be able to smoke again without stuffing my mouth full of gauze. But I hear some people getting dry socket as late as day 5. So I'm going to be shoving cotton in my mouth till at least Day 5.

I keep reading all these stories about people who were able to get along fine on Motrin afterwards. FUCK YOUUUUU! This makes me wonder if I'm just being a pussy. Then I think "Well, your tooth was UBER INFECTED and HARD AS SHIT to yank out, so no, you're not a pussy" and I nod and then I wonder again if I'm a pussy.

Of course, those people had teeth that were out in under a minute, whereas mine took almost ten minutes to dig out.


All I want to do is sleep and write. Sleep and write, sleep and write, and occasionally eat. It feels MONSTROUSLY lazy at this point. But my body just isn't up for much more. Bending down to scoop out the catboxes makes my mouth throb. Forget about going out socially, which would require lots of talking. (Mr. Bigoted Professor will be relieved to discover I can't talk very much.)


I guess I'll talk about something else when I talk about something else.

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1) I just had crab cakes. LIFE IS FUCKING AWESOME. Not that I don't love the cheesecake and mashed potatoes and pudding that I've been eating, but I'm getting pretty sugared out. CRAB CAKES. FUCK YEAH.

2) I also brushed my teeth for the first time in two days. FUCKING AWESOME.

3) No real pain, per say....but the swelling and tenderness does hurt. I've been icing my face but it doesn't seem to be reducing swelling anymore. The cold does feel good on the aches and pain, though.

Should I use a warm compress?

4) I am super freaked out and paranoid about dry socket. If it happens, though, I can go right to the hospital and they do an on-the-spot, free treatment to repair that.

5) If the pain starts, I put in a piece of gauze. It seems to help, for some reason. I ALWAYS use gauze when I smoke.

6) I'm really, really fucking braindead.

7) I slept ALL DAY today. It was WONDERFUl.
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The pain is returning, though currently it is a dull ache. Swallowed another couple of pain pills, hopefully I caught it before it gets too bad. My cheek, jawbone, and throat are SO swollen. I look like a half-drawn bullfrog.

Ribbet. Ribbet.

I still haven't been able to sleep. Not for any pain, but just general restlessness. You'd think these narcotics would knock me on my ass. *sigh* Screwy body is screwed. There is also some vertigo. I'll have to beg Pat to pick me up some more Ginger Root pills, as I'm almost out and do not want to drive in my current impaired state.

I'm almost dead certain the vertigo is less medication induced and more simply the fact that I haven't slept. I get queasy and spinny when I'm exhausted.

So Andrew Ducker wrote this on "What It Means To Be A Grown Up."

It's good. It's relevant. And it's extremely informative. And as usual, it makes me want to rant about David. But I'm feeling really med-tarded at the moment. (Yes, I know that's a play off the word "retarded" which can be offensive, but I actually mean it in the original 'less advanced mentally, slows down and hinders progress of, etc' way.) So at this moment I'm putting it out there and hoping some this restless not-able-to-sleep-energy translates into a focused entry later.

Time Warner came by to disconnect the internet that David had in his name. I was able to give the modem back, which was good. He now owes them 202 dollars.

I did tell him when I got new nets in this place - about six days after the breakup back in February. I actually reminded him a couple of times. I recommended he call up Time Warner and disconnect service (I can't do that because I'm not on the account), as he owed 60 dollars at that point.

Well, now he owes 200.


He was exceedingly kind and gracious yesterday when running me around. I appreciated that greatly. It was good to know that neither of us felt the need to get into it. I know this is not to be a habit, though.

They say the worst of a tooth extraction is over in 2 days. 24 hours down. 24 to go.
quirkytizzy: (Default)
15 and a half hours later, the pain is minimal. Reduced to mere soreness, I'd even say. This is not to say pain won't return, but over the last nine hours I've only taken two pain pills.This is what I do. I experience something and then write it into the ground. )

While I have no particular fear of dentists (they only make me nervous in the way that all doctors make most people somewhat nervous), I found THIS page to be wildly informative and comforting.

Seriously. Check it out. It's really awesome.


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