On Life…

I have to admit to having a rough time ever since I got back from my road trip at the beginning of January. It seems the shit sees fit to keep hitting the fan for me. See, you might remember me mentioning something about a particularly fantastic cold that I woke up with the day after returning. That lasted me a good week. After that I had respite for a few days where I was feeling a bit tired and extremely unmotivated, but otherwise fine. When I got to talking to my mom about it she basically pointed out that I did just get over the cold, but another reason possibly behind my lack of motivation for everything is that since it is winter and I wasn’t in school I just didn’t feel the need or the “sense of urgency” I usually do to get things done. I can believe that. I usually have tons going on at once. For example, during school I’m taking six classes a semester, working at least full-time if not a full-time and part-time job, plus there is the time I spend volunteering, plus all of family/friend/me time that I make so I don’t burnout. You get that right? My mom said I’d probably feel better after a quick trip to Jamaica, and I chuckled and said, “You paying?” and my mom said no.

However, this brief respite it turns out was something far different from my lack of things to do because a day after this conversation the beginnings of a toothache came on. While a toothache is generally no big deal, just slap some Orajel take some Tylenol and be on your way, this was no ordinary toothache. This quickly became a can’t-eat-can’t-sleep-can’t-think-the-pressure-in-my-head-is-so-awful-that-I’d-love-to-walk-up-to-the-guillotine toothache. The pain got worse to the point my mom was forcing me to take leftover pain medication from an operation she had a little bit back (which while I know that’s breaking the rules I’m really glad she did this, you know… in hindsight and all). As fate had it I actually had a dentist appointment this week so I didn’t have to cry and beg my way into see the dentist man. He took a look at it for me and said, yup, infection in your wisdom tooth. Tell me why a tooth that is scheduled to be removed from my mouth in a matter of months decides to cause such pain for me now, and tell my how, puh-lease…

Anywho, he gave me some antibiotics and gave me the call if it gets worse spiel and sent me on my way. Cool, you know? So, I take my pills and the pain doesn’t go away, and my face continues to swell and hurt, and by Thursday I haven’t eaten more than a cup of yogurt and a little bit of soup broth all week. I was lucky if I slept straight through for more than an hour at a time. By Thursday night my mother was so worried about my mental state due to a toothache – a frickin’ toothache! – that she took yesterday off and called my dentist (since it hurts to talk and all) to get something done. Alas, mister dentist man says go to oral surgeon, tooth must be removed! Can I get a yay? I hope not.

I spent my Friday morning in an oral surgeons office watching my mom drink coffee, something I haven’t been able to get down for days (insert uber sadface here), surrounded by a bunch of people with a swollen and hurting face waiting my turn to step onto the chopping block. I’ll basically sum the removal experience up to – I’m so not looking forward to having the other three pulled in March. At least they give you drugs though. =]

So, here I sit, in the middle of the night in front of the computer, with the ache of a now-removed wisdom tooth, waiting for the time for my next dose of painkiller and antibiotics. After that, hopefully I’ll go back to sleep and maybe I’ll even sleep for another whole three hours like I did with the last dose.

All that and the scariest part of all this for me… my inability to do shit. I’ve been in so much pain it hurt to walk up the stairs or into the kitchen. I couldn’t stand up long enough to wash a load of dishes. I have not been to work since Monday. I’m losing my mind. The fact that a toothache has me feeling helpless and unable to accomplish anything, scares me. I don’t like not being able to do stuff or take care of myself. I’ll admit, I cried. A lot. I don’t cry, not really. A fucking toothache. Can you believe it?

At this point I’m hoping that everything works itself out and as long as I’m in shape to start up school again on Monday I’ll be fine. I can get back to my life. I can work and learn and visit my baby brothers and laugh at their baby antics and get on with it.

This, basically, has been my middle of the night rant, and if you read it… I commend you. I also hope you never have to experience what I have in the last week.