My Mouf Hurtz.

Friday...ugh.  What a nightmare.  My top wisdom teeth were extracted at around 11:00am.  I can't eat or drink before surgery, and with my full time job, "sleeping in" is considered to be anytime from 7-8am.  And in Friday's case, it was 7:30.

Unlike most people, I wake up either hungry or thirsty in the morning.   It's strange, but so is the rest of me.  Alas.  Have you ever been thirsty or hungry? Have you ever been thirsty or hungry with a kitchen full of food and beverage?  Have you ever not been able to eat or drink any of it for hours?


It SUCKED.  My effing father made rye toast.  I could smell it from a mile away.  Damn him.  And his incredible toast-making skillz.

So we get there and checked in.  I was ravenous.  I heard screaming on the other side of the wall.  Man up, little kid.  I was a tad insensitive at this point, not having eaten or had anything to drink in over fourteen hours. But that kid really did need to grow a pair and just suck it up.  I'm going to make such a great mother.  I can tell already.

I just hope I'm half the mother Britney is.
[via babble]

So they call me in, plop me in a seat and like ten people rush into the room.  No lie.  They put some monitors on me, put that weird finger monitor on my index finger, and start feeling for a vein to knock me out.  I wanted to be put under.  After my last experience with novocaine, I'll never use it again.

They searched and searched, but no avail.  I have to admit, I have some deep-ass veins.  The vampires over at the Red Cross hate me too.  So they moved down to my hand.  Ugh, needles in my hand.  They make me cringe.  DNKSDNV.  They made me squeeze me hand so something would happen.  Then the main dude was getting frustrated.  They put me under nitrous gas just to get my veins popped.  And then they finally found one!

Dear God.  If you ever need to have a needle poked into you, try to opt out of getting it in the hand.  It hurt.  And my pain threshold is pretty damn high.  But Sweet Baby Jesus.

They injected the good stuff into muh hand and next thing I know, I was feeling tired.  So tired.  And then I was asleep.

Warning: The next few paragraphs you're about to read are my recollection of this tale while I was under anesthesia.  


Ten seconds later, a wonderful lady in purple asked me to move into her magical wheelchair.  We somehow teleported over to a rest area, where I was tucked into a little cot with a fuzzy blanket atop of my tired body.  It was so cozy.  So cozy.


I took a little catnap in the bed.  And boy did I dream.  I was underwater, swimming.  I could breathe like a champ too.  Obviously I had gills.  So I was swimming and swimming, looking at my surroundings.  All I could think of was how it was the perfect opportunity to take pictures.  I wanted to take pictures so bad.  So bad.  I wished and wished and wished and a giant washing machine appeared in my hands.  Not only was it a fully functional washing machine, but this wonderful piece of technology doubled as an underwater camera. So I carried it around and snapped pictures left and right.  'Twas awesome.

You try to figure it out, because I can't.
[via appliancist]

I was slowly awakening and I saw my dad sitting down next to me.  I felt his arm.  I was incredibly smooth for a man-arm.  Like effing silk.  My dad had silk arms and he never told me.  Secret keeper!  Then another lady in purple approached me and handed me my teeth, wrapped in gauze.  She just gave me a deep look of respect and disbelief.

Notice: I am now conscious of my surroundings.  Anesthesia is mostly out of system.


What the hell?  Who gives out teeth that have been freshly extracted?  What's the point?  It should be noted that I was given a gauze pillow, and could not see the teeth.

We pay for some of the surgery and then leave, teeth in hand.  Thoroughly confused and kinda losing balance, I somehow make it to the car.  By this time, we were both wondering what my teeth looked like.  Obviously they gave them to me for a reason, right?

I peel back the tape and unfold the gauze, only to find another piece of gauze wrapped inside.  I unfold that and reveal two giant-ass teeth.  I'm not even kidding you.  These teeth are pretty effing huge.  I was amazed.  My dad couldn't believe it.  Everyone I've shown it to looks at the teeth, then at my jaw, then at me.  I perplex them.  Mission accomplished.

But seriously, I'm apparently known to exaggerate some things, but I have to attest to this.  These teeth are as big as quarters.  They're as long as quarters.

Don't believe me?

YEAH.

So imagine the pain I felt, people.  Imagine those mofos right there pressing against your gums and teeth.

But they're out now.  They gave me some narcotics to take for the pain.  About an hour after I got home, my gums started throbbing.  Naturally, my parents already filled my prescriptions, anticipating extreme pain.  I was definitely starting to feel the hurt.  So I took one.

Warning: The next few paragraphs you're about to read are my recollection of this tale while I was under pain killers.


It took a few minutes for that baby to kick in, but when it did...woahSo tired.  I sat down on the reclining part of the couch, with the full intent of napping.  I wrangled myself under a huge blanket and closed my eyes.

BUT GOD DAMN.  It was like every damn time I tried to get to sleep, someone walked around the house.  Someone just HAD to talk to someone else.  SOMEONE JUST HAD TO ANNOUNCE THAT SHE HAD TO PEE.


Every time I was about to fall asleep, right as I was drifting away, something would wake me up. Has this ever happened to you, multiple times?  HAS IT?  Because I wanted blood.  I wanted to kill.  I was so effing angry.

MY LIFE.
[via smosh]

My sister yelled that she had to pee.  She woke me up.  I screamed that I wanted to stab her in the heart.

My dog heard something outside and started barking.  He woke me up.  I stood up, grabbed him by the collar, looked into his golden eyes and threatened to kill him.  He didn't bark for hours after that.

My sister sat on the couch.  She was trying to peel a sticker off of her phone.  It was making crinkly noises.  She woke me up.  I opened my eyes and told her that I was going to happily watch the life drain out of her face if she kept it up.

By that time, everyone had enough of me, so they all shut up and let me sleep in peace.  Apparently, it looked like I was in a coma.  I was OUT.

Note: Narcotics story is over.


At the time, these feelings were normal.  But as I reflect, those things turned me into a damn monster.  I mean, when else would I have the desire to kill little Gary?

Never.


But after my four or five hour nap, my lovely mother whipped up some chicken broth and rice.  She's really the best.

PS it's her birthday. Happy 48th, lady.

But no, for the past few days, I've had to eat like a toddler.  Baby bites of soft food.

All I want is a crunchy piece of toast.  Rye toast.  Like the kind my father tormented with me on Friday morning.

Never forget.  Never surrender.


But for all of you actually concerned about my health, I'm healing well.  I should be fine by Tuesday or Wednesday.  That's pretty much it for now.  Until next time, kiddos.