Saturday, January 10, 2009

Higher than the effing proverbial kite

Well, as of yesterday morning, I am officially wisdom-less. Tooth, that is. Since I had my lowers out last year, there were only 2 left to remove, and this time we went to an orthodontic surgeon in Augusta who, while less convenient, apparently was much less expensive, especially after our dental coverage altered at the beginning of the year. This doc explained a bit more thoroughly than the other, and the staff was much friendlier during the process, at least as far as I remember. My surgery was at 11:15, and we got home around 2. Or maybe 1. I don't recall clearly, I was still coming down from anesthesia and better than half my face was numb. (On a side note, whenever I have had general anesthesia, whether independent of or in league with IV drugs, I have always regained feeling in the right side of my face much more quickly than in the left). I slept off and on (mostly on) for the rest of the day, until half-seven. I got up and since I hadn't eaten in almost 24 hours, had a bowl of applesauce, more Oxy, and a clindamycin (antibiotic, which should also knock out the slight head cold I woke up with on Thursday). Then around 8, my body decided that everything from my small intestine up needed to...relocate. Violently. This was my first negative reaction to anesthesia, and I would rather it never, ever, ever, ever, EVER happen again. What word is ever-er than "ever"? While usually when you get ill, throwing up relieves some underlying pressure, such wasn't the case last night. I cannot remember the last time I felt so miserable, possibly including my broken arm. I finally reached the point where I had been dry-heaving for about 10 minutes off and on, I was able to lie down and work on sleep. At some point during the night I woke up (assisted frequently by one or both of the cats) and was THANK THE LORD no longer nauseous.
When I got up I was so shakey I could barely walk. With preparatory assistance I had eggs, applesauce, yoghurt, and hot cocoa over the day.
Now I'm on my 2nd Oxy of the day, and anything more complicated than sitting on the sofa and keeping my head in generally one position is a liiiiiiiittle challenging. Da came by and started moving my head around, "It's fun to play with drugged people!"
I'll keep that in mind for next time HE'S on oxy. He's worse than I am.

I go back to school tomorrow, and I have to be back before 8 to attend the required meeting on Blood Borne Pathogens because some idiots in my dorm can't properly dispose of feminine hygiene products. Now, issues like this I might be able to understand in Middle School, possibly early High, but in College? Come on, people! That's disgusting!

Later, all,