Chicken Soup for the Ckicken's Soul
2000-07-20 - 03:18:10
Tip #3: tie your feet together for a day, it's 'great funn'.
I shall now recount the events involved with the extraction of my wisdom teeth. I would like to start by saying that I have no problem with surgery. I am not afraid of needles or shitting my pants when they relax all my muscles with antiseptics. I do, however, have something against people in medical professions that don't know jack shit. The nurses were just plain stoopid. What really annoyed me is that one of them refused to use technical terms. Or maybe she forgot them all. When she said 'non-medial', I almost screamed, 'it's DISTAL, bitch!' but that would have been mean. One thing you DON'T do before surgery is piss the nurses off, because they're going to be the ones preventing the doctor from assraping you while you're unconscious. The other nurse came across to me as someone who had just applied for the job, and was going though the first surgical procedure of her career. She seemed happy enough, but I could tell she was getting nauseous just thinking about it, and was even more nervous then I was. I let her hold my bear while I was K.O.ed; I think that made her feel a fuC and a half better. The doctor was very qualified, but for some reason he got the impression I was slow, eh? He kept saying that I was a very 'special' person, to be having my wisdom teeth out. But his presumption about me may have been reasonable; think about it. A 17 year old male, built like an army recruit, walks into his office holding a Grateful Dead Bear, and smiling. I smiled more every time he said anything about 'pain' or 'blood', just to freak him out. Anyways, I must digress to inform the readers of this diary something about myself, heaven forbid. In the five minutes between being totally unconscious and fully awake, I am claustrophobic. I will thrash out at nearly anything that is close to me, especially if it wasn't there before I went to bed. Another reason why I am a virgin, alas...*sigh*. So, I wake up in a totally different room, with a wall on my right. Instinctively, I flail my right arm at it, because it is threatening my personal wake-up space. I never checked to see if I made a dent in it, but in all likelihood, I didn't. The noise alerted Nurse #1, and she came in to check on me. By the time she had gotten into the room, I was sitting up, and dealing with double-vision. In a couple minutes, I was walking to the car, one eye closed (I believe I have told you that my depth perception increases when I am not using both eyes, and it came in very handy here), like nothing had even happened. So I find later that I have five stitches in my mouth, and I'm bleeding profusely. Ten wads of gauss later, and I'm okay, with the exception of Coke. Even though I haven't had anything to drink all day, I am supposed t wait another three hours until I can have food, and probably shouldn't even have corrosive liquids until I'm semi-healed. Arg. So I'm without Coke for a while, and I'm gonna go nuts.
So for the rest of today, I have been giving myself various sorts of metaphorical chicken soup.
*Skip to a song I made, done to the tune of the ewoks on Star Wars: "If you are sick you need chicken soup, chicken soup, chicken soup. I am sick, I need chicken soup, chicken soup, tra-la..."*
- Attempting to talk, knowing that you sound like a drunk two year old, because your mandibular nerves are numb.
- Reading Diaries. I suggest Crackbaby and Unclebob. I just can't get enough of those kids sporadically humping his leg.
- Attempting to eat chicken soup.
- Exercising Tip #3. Being Unipedal kicks pachyderm tooshie.
- Reading Neil Gaiman. If you can get hold of Neverwhere, I strongly suggest you buy it, or at least read it in the store. ('Course, I am reading 'Stardust', because I've already read Neverwhere, twice.)
- playing with my oversized, numb-as-hell lower lip.
