More Vicodin Please

Just last week, I had my wisdom teeth removed. Well, as it turns out, I don't need doctors to induce pain; I can do it on my own. =/ On Monday, the phone rang. It rang again. I decided that I would have to be the one to answer the call, so I ran from my room into the dining area where the phone was sitting on its base. On my way to the phone, I hurdled two stacked laundry baskets. I made the landing safely, but as I was rounding the edge of the dining table, my right foot struck our hutch/buffet/antique cabinet. Wow, did it hurt. I'd never felt that much from something I figured was a bruise. I didn't make it to the phone in time.

On Tuesday, I checked my foot to see how bad the bruise was. haha! Let's just say my foot has artwork on it...pretty big artwork. My foot was still bothering me this morning (it's Thursday) so my mother called the hospital to schedule X-rays. We learned that my middle toe is broken. It's my first broken bone. Oh, the joy. I have to meet with my regular doctor in about an hour.

Other news: my classes at the college where I take PSEOs are swell. I'm currently taking Child Psychology, Philosophy Logic, and Intermediate Spanish. For a course project in Child Psych, I'll be able to volunteer for 10 hours with children and write journal entries. Or I can write two 4-page papers. I like to write, but I'd much rather work with the kids. I'm excited! Psych is what I plan on majoring in and this is a great opportunity for me. My PHI class is proving to be interesting. The reading materials that I've been given make logical sense (no pun intended) and are fascinating. The PHI class is allied with Psych, so it will count toward my major. My Spanish class will be the difficult one. I'm sure I'll have fun, but I get so nervous that I tend to mess words up. At least Profe is understanding.

Ta ta for now! Much love!

I've Lost Some Wisdom Today

At 10:30 this morning, I arrived at the oral surgeon's office. I had to wait for a bit, so I decided to read a pamphlet...a pamphlet about what would be happening to me in a few moments. After my mother paid her share of the dental bill, a lady came into the office and mispronouced my name. I'm so used to people giving me their interpretations of my name that by now it doesn't really bother me anymore. The first thing the nurse/lady asked me was if I had to use the restroom. Ever since I found out that I would be having my wisdom teeth cut out (not removed - the top two were growing in horizontally whereas the bottom two just didn't have enough room to grow), I've had this secret fear of wetting myself in the chair. I've been put under before when I had my tonsils taken out (I was seven), but I didn't know how I would react this time. I thought that maybe it would take so long to get the teeth out that my body wouldn't register that the bladder is supposed to be contracted...but I didn't have to worry about it. The procedure only took about forty-five minutes, which is actually pretty short in wisdom teeth removal speaking. haha But I did have another problem, which I was unaware of. When I had my tonsils removed, the nurse tried to start an IV in my left hand, but had trouble, so she had to poke me in my right hand. Well, as it turns out, the IV in my right hand at the dentist's today (they didn't try my left hand first this time) gave out during the surgery. It's okay to laugh now since I'm alive, but it could have been serious. The people who were in charge of my IV had to start one in my right arm. They were really impressed with how big my vains are in that arm. Sure, my parents have big vains in their arms, but I do work out, so that contributes to why the vains are close to the surface and slightly larger than normal. After the surgery, I came back into conciousness a few times, but it was a gradual process. After the nurses had determined that I was awake, I had to go to this dimly lit room called "The Recovery Room," which to me sounds like a really bad '80s horror flick. haha Anyway, while I was in there, I cried a ton. I didn't even know why I was crying either. Thankfully, one of the nurses explained that most people cry afterward as sort of a side affect of the medicine. It felt really strange and all I wanted to do was sleep. But alas, I could not. A nurse helped me get to my mother who was waiting for me. My mom lead me to the van, but before I got in, the nurse handed me a T-Shirt. To me, that is one of the funniest things you can do to a patient. It's like saying, "We hope you had a great stay here. Would you like to advertise for us?" But I'm NOT complaining. FREE = GOOD.
Now that I've been home for about 5-6 hours, I'm feeling a bit better. My teeth still hurt, but the Vikodin, Ibueprofen, and the headgear with the ice packs are helping. I look really silly with the headgear on, especially because I wasn't allowed to wear makeup today, in case it would get inside my mouth or on one of the tools that were used in the extraction. I've watched a few episodes of Match Game and Millionaire Matchmaker to cheer me up and I'm about to watch "Taking Woodstock." I also borrowed "12 Angry Men" and "Singin' in the Rain" from the library, so those should tie me over for a while.
So far, I've only been allowed to eat broth from chicken noodle soup (but only the broth), jello, and applesauce. Let me tell you, jello has never tasted better. I was worried that since I can only eat really soft, not-filling foods that I would go hungry (I say "go hungry" in American terms because I know it would be nothing like the poor children in Africa), but actually, I haven't really wanted to eat.
On a side note, one day, I would like a mildly attractive and smart man to say, "Here's to lookin' at you, kid" to me. If you get this reference, you're a-okay in my book. =]