Okay. The pounding, throbbing pain has subsided a bit, thanks to the discovery of gel caps. I am feeling a bit more balanced. I am feeling a bit less like death.
But I feel like I should explain, and if you tend to get freaked out by gross dentist stuff, then you may want to skip this part of the post. I will move on to fun stuff later.
ENTER GROSS DENTIST PART!
I know that I half-expected my tooth to be pulled, so maybe I should have been better prepared, mentally or otherwise. I see now that I should have probably arranged to have a ride home, and maybe even have someone at the dentist's office with me to give me sweet little hugs and kisses, or to tell me that the pain will eventually go away, or to distract me with bunny rabbits and kittens, or to bitch in harmony about the terror of having your teeth pulled.
Except that I have never had a tooth pulled before, let alone a giant, happy, fat-ass wisdom tooth that really wanted to stay put. Not to mention the fact that my otherwise-wonderful dentist didn't inject me with quite enough anesthetic to numb the pain, and so when he started cutting open my gum, I felt it. Oh, I felt it. I guess he read the look in my eyes pretty fast, because his hygienist was pumping me full of more drugs faster than I could scream. And shit, my gum was infected in the first place, so it was inflamed from start to freaky finish.
"Extraction" aside (what a euphemism for torture), I had to be sewn up afterwards. And because I was conscious the whole time, I got to witness, and feel, what it's like to have someone thread a needle and SEW YOUR GUMS UP. I like to sew buttons and small purses and magic bags. Flesh just isn't my thing, not for arts and crafts, anyway.
When the hygienist asked me if I wanted to keep the tooth, I had a quick moment of "Ewyoumustbejoking!" But then I reflected. MY body grew that tooth, and there was no way I was going to give up the fruits of my labour that easily. It belonged to me. It was taken from me in a giant, bloody battle. I needed some sort of treasure, no? "Yes," I said. "I would like to keep it."
I'm not sure how wise that was, because now I have a decimated tooth sitting in my backpack. It's like loot, but bloodier.
My Better Half made some joke about stringing it around his neck "like they do in Hollywood" before he realized that the laughing was hurting me even more than the sobbing. But it was obscenely funny, especially when he started doing impressions and trying to lick my ear. "Well, I can't really lick your mouth right now. I have to find new exploits." God I love that man.
Anyways, by the time I got home (on the bus with groceries. not wise) the freezing was wearing off. My dentist said I could just take Tylenol, and I foolishly believed him. I started to feel sick from the pain; I was all wilty and nauseous and shaky. I crawled into bed and called my Better Half. I cried like a wee baby. He hurried over, and you already know the part about the impressions and the licking.
ENTER SUPER FUN PART OF THE POST! NO BLOOD HERE!
In better news, my good friend Rachel was visiting through this whole debacle. We were in the same university program, right down to the same double major, and we always have a fabulous time together. This is partly because we both love to drink and eat, but also because she is just generally amazing. The night before the "extraction" we made some of the biggest enchiladas you will ever see.
That thing is the size of my head. I'm serious.
Black beans and sweet potato, with wraps big enough to swallow your soul.
As Rach would say, "Check out these bad boys." Can you imagine that she successfully ate an entire one of those monsters? I couldn't even get my hands around them, let alone my mouth. I tore mine into little bits and scooped up the filling.
For good measure, here is a picture of Rach wearing an apron that says, "Will cook for sex." It belongs to me, of course.
I am off to nap and perhaps to eat some apple sauce. That's all I've eaten for the past 24 hours, but it's so delicious and mushy, I can't seem to stop. I will update you when I move on to the ice cream.