Alright, alright, I promised I wouldn't complain anymore about this, but the novelty of being able to relax, pop heavy prescription drugs and consume copious amounts of ice cream is beginning to wear off... I don't really know what all the fuss about Percocet is about; I just feel slightly dizzy and lazy. In all fairness, it does alleviate the pain for about a solid hour and a half, but then I need to wait another six before I can take another. I know that having your wisdom teeth extracted is by no means a big deal. In some ways it's a painful rite of passage for many. I usually have a pretty high pain threshold; but FUCK, this has been a little more painful than I thought it was going to be. I kinda hoped I'd be one of the lucky few who felt slightly woozy, but then bounced back in no time, by-passing the dreaded chipmunk cheeks stage.
On the plus side I did manage to eat some pasta last night (1/4 serving over the course of an hour) which was heavenly, but unfortunately today my face is so swollen that eating anything but ice cream hurts. Boooo.
I can't even imagine what it would be like to have major surgery, break a limb, or (gasp) give birth. What about people who get face lifts? I don't hold any judgment towards those who decide to enhance their looks, but I can't comprehend recovering from something like that. My mum's friend who had a full face-lift once told her that it was the most painful thing she has ever experienced and had she known she would never have done it in the first place. Although she does look pretty fab. It took her a solid week in an expensive recovery clinic before she was able to go home and begin to actually heal. That seems all too much for me.
I must admit that I was a little nervous about the whole thing because I'd never been knocked out before. I thought that they would make me count down from 10 or something, but instead they told me to make a fist and then all I remember is the nurse telling me to open my eyes and that my convulsions were normal. That's right, VIOLENT shaking, pure seizure styles. Luckily, it was short lived after they gave me an oxygen mask. All in all, I couldn't believe how fast the entire thing was. The surgery was about 20 minutes tops (which felt like 5 minutes to me), plus another 20 minutes sitting with my dad in the recovery room. The scariest moment was when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the way out the door (side note: Why do they have a mirror on the wall by the door? No one wants to see that.) I looked ridiculous. My teeth and sides of my mouth were covered with dry blood and I realized that what felt like my tongue hanging out of my mouth was in fact a frozen, droopy, cracked bottom lip covered in drool. Hawt.
The rest of the afternoon was spent in bed watching movies with my dad, brother and step sister Nathalie who was an utter gem and went out to buy me some Baskin&Robbins. By the time they had to leave, Lorne was over with another movie and some more delicious ice cream (my favourite gelato!). I kept falling asleep, but it was nice to have him beside me.
Today I woke up in agony and realized that my face was huge. I did manage to do all my laundry, clean and scrub the bathroom and read most of Nat's magazines out in the sun. Now I feel exhausted, nauseated and increasingly stoned as my second percocet of the day is beginning to set in. Time to end this pathetic blog and have a well deserved lie down.
peace out.
1 comment:
stay with it. you'll be alright. my brave little soldier.
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