Archive for July, 2010
My teeth are fixed (somewhat):
I have temporary caps on the top and bottom teeth, but there’s no pain! I noticed that almost immediately. Other than some tenderness, which has all but vanished now, there is no pain at all. For the first time in my life, I can drink cold-to-room temperature drinks and not cringe in pain. Of course, the other side of my mouth needs worked on, but there’s no constant pain there, just when I take those cold drinks. The plan is to get the teeth fixed before I am in excruciating pain for weeks on end.
There are some changes coming to my web presence soon. Don’t worry. It’s probably all good.
One of the things that seems appropriate about the coming week is my 72 hour involuntary psych evaluation. That’s what I get for going to see my doctor a week ago! Thoughts keep turning round in my mind. Maybe I’m nuts after all.
In short, the recent drama that has plagued me has nothing to do with this situation. Maybe I am having a mid-life crisis, and that’s why I woke up in a stranger’s bed for four days in a row last week? But whatever has caused this has nothing to do with anything that has transcribed over the T1 lines. Although the harassment that I have been the victim of did not help.
I will be gone from August 6, 2010 through August 10, 2010. I know that’s more than 72 hours, but when you’re locked in the asylum, there is no Sunday. Think happy thoughts for me. I just want to be well.
You would (or maybe not) be surprised at what I did for a couple of jars of mushrooms, a good plastic fork, a cherry Dr. Pepper and a good straw.
Discovering my husband can’t hit my mouth with said fork and straw: Hilarious.
Quadruple root canals + one wisdom tooth extraction + one over crowding extraction and retainer: $7,800 + Tax.
Nanny expenses for ten days while I heal: $1000.
New Coach wallet because I said so: $130 + Shipping. We won’t talk about that yet.
Being able to have sugar, caffeine and solid food: Priceless.
Going to see the dentist on Tuesday to get these damned teeth permanently fixed: Priceless +1.
Stepping on the scales and seeing I’ve lost about 15 lbs in less than a week: Priceless +5 (and worrisome).
Knowing that the dentist is refilling my Vicodin prescription with six months of refills at 2-4 pills every six hours: Priceless +∞.
It’s been less than a week since I’ve stopped eating solid foods, and I miss eating more than I thought I would. I guess this is why I never really dieted. Eating is just part of who I am. That explains the weight issues, right?
I can’t survive on Gogurt/yogurt, Vitamin Water and Vicodin. However, the Vicodin passes the time quicker.
I’m almost tempted to numb my mouth with EMLA cream and eat this:
Yes, that is a cheeseburger with grilled cheese sandwiches for buns. I almost licked my screen when I discovered it.
Of course, if I numbed my mouth, I wouldn’t be able to chew, swallow, or most importantly, taste, so it would be pointless to eat after numbing, not to mention near impossible.
Dennis seems to think that my pain has gone on long enough, and I need to do chores to keep my mind off of things. Such as washing the mountain of laundry that has grown in the past few days, changing the sheets on the bed and making the bed, plus adjusting the pH and temperature (“I am SICK of sleeping on a cold, wet bag! I have a RASH from the mold in the bed!” WTF? You wanted a water bed!). I was also asked to dump my cloves/alcohol mixture (“The smell is making me sick!” Are you pregnant?). All of this must be done by 10pm, and I had to take him to the studio, in the blistering, hot July sun, and come home.
Joke’s on him though. I got the mail and the credit card bill. I’ve effectively destroyed the purchase listings of the bill, so there.
Ick. James didn’t quite make it to his potty in the bathroom today, and had an accident in his pants.
I used nearly an entire roll of toilet paper to wipe his ass clean, the entire time trying very hard not to throw up. Seriously, I don’t know how the kid could hold so much! Eventually, a gag escaped my lips and Dennis asked if everything was ok. “This shit is making me sick,” I replied, somewhat quietly. To which James replied very loudly, “I SORRY MOMMA! I DIDN’T MEAN TO POO!”
What is up with these kids and their guilt trips? Am I just that gullible?
Chloe’s birthday is 10 days away and she only asked for two things: momma to get well and momma to take he for a ride on her ninja. Hmm. Those are toughies.
On a better note, I am eating more today, in less pain and I have not taken any narcotics. Coincidences?
In case anyone was wondering, this is what was hurting me yesterday/is still hurting me today:
See those teeth? They were cracked last week when I was hit in the face with the text book that fell out of my closet. The dentist told me that I could tell him “what really hit me in the face” and if it was “really a text book or a fist” but I’m sticking to my text book story. In the long run, the text book can’t deprive me of things I need, should this get any worse.
I’m on Vicodin, antibiotics, and I can’t eat. The pain is just that bad. I need several root canals to fix the problem, but I just can’t get them done yet. I’m already taking double the pain medication, and I’m already building up a tolerance to it. I’ve taken double the dose today, and I’m going to try to go to work like this. It should make for an interesting day.
Taking the morning meds caused a lot of pain, even though I took them with room-temperature water:
Think that’s enough pills? That’s not even all of them. I’m missing two of my prescriptions and I doubt that I will be getting them any time soon because we have all this drama to go through. I imagine with the pain I’m having, and the lack of a blood pressure pill, my blood pressure is back up to 300/250. Yes, it gets that high.
Dennis is repeating things the LOLCow has said to me. Apparently, he was listening in on part of my phone conversation yesterday, and he went apeshit over OMG, me talking about things that apparently happened “years ago”, despite the LOLCow making the same pathetic threats that all the other losers eventually make (calling the JAG on me, and so fourth). It was amusing this morning when my alarm went off; it’s a ring tone that’s like an old phone ringer. He ran over to the phone to see who was calling me at this hour, and the joke was on him: It was just a ring tone. Still, to end some of the drama, I deleted the alarm. Is it wrong that I just want this to all be over?
Oh, and I’m a shitty mother. I told my autistic eight year old step son not to be horrible this morning because he was singing at the top of his lungs, and now he won’t talk again. It’s going to be one of those days. Why haven’t the narcotics kicked in yet?