Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Wisdom Pouring From My Teeth

In spite of a nasty looking astrological event, the wisdom teeth came out as planned on Friday. You can debate how much irony there is in the removal of wisdom teeth under such circumstances at your leisure while you contemplate this over-share picture.

The procedure went fine, and now, five days later, I am more or less safe from infection or dry-socketing (knock on wood; I haven't had my week-check-up yet!). That's not to say that everything was perfectly smooth though.

Turns out, Omilies are allergic to codeine derivatives! Including oxicodone, the medicine I was given for pain management. Within twenty-four hours, pain management had morphed into puking free-for-all. There were breaks in the evenings that lulled me into a false sense of security more than once. Ultimately I had to be perscribed a whole other medicine, and lets just say I had the dubious pleasure of not having to swallow that one, to control the nausea and vomiting.

You see, the oxicodone wasn't upsetting my stomach; it was messing with the nausea and vomiting center of my brain, and would continue to do so until it worked out of my system several days after I stopped taking it. By the way, I stopped taking it Saturday, and stopped taking tylenol Sunday morning. I've had no pain meds since then. I am a fecking champ.

I tell you all this for a couple reasons: first and foremost there is no point in having a blog, no matter how pure its intentions may claim to be, if you can't share with the world that you were sick as a dog for a few days.

Secondly, I guess this comes right on the heals of my admission that I don't generally practice yoga daily--I failed this yoga test, too. I didn't meditate, calm my mind, and stay in the moment. I rolled around in bed, when my tummy would permit any movement, and moaned and groaned about how miserable I was and how I kind of wanted to die if it wasn't going to stop soon.

I was particularly bad on Monday, when my husband, who has been wonderful through all of this, had to go back to work, leaving me to my nauseous (though medicated so able to keep some food down) lonesome. The problem with this miracle drug is that it was originally marketed as an anti-psychotic and has some fun side-effects to match: twitching, blurred vision, dizziness, light-headedness, drowsiness, and though unlisted I can attest, short attention span and basic antsy-ness. Yes, I was desperate enough for relief to go on this stuff. This combination of symptoms makes any kind of boredom relief short of talking to another human being (ideally not about your suffering, but good luck with that...) completely impossible. You can't read; you can't watch tv, you can't accomplish things around the house. You are trapped in a really freaky headspace. I was not a fan. And I was not pleasant. I called three friends and left voicemails so forlorn that they all called back apologizing for not answering their phones within 24-hours. I did everything short of blatantly asking my husband to ditch work to come home and suffer with me (I applaud him for not taking the bait; he deserved that day off more than I did!) Finally, (and I'm not proud that this was a last resort. Had I been in my right mind it probably would have been my first idea) I called my Dad.

Jack pot! My Dad lives in Ohio, and misses me a great deal. He's always looking for a chance to chat me up for a while, just to catch up, hear my voice, and make sure I'm ok. Usually I'm too swept up in the crazy currents of my own life to fulfill this request in a reasonable fashion, reasonable request though it is. On Monday though, I was sooooooo ready for a nice, long, involved chat! We talked for an hour about this and that, and by the time I got off the phone I was feeling way better. I even managed to write a letter to my Grandpa Pate who lives in Florida sans-telephone (but he deserves a post of his own).

I convinced the husband that holding down applesauce for the duration of the afternoon certified me recovered enough to appear in public, in spite of still being heavily medicated and suffering from the myriad afore-mentioned side-effects, and so we met at Trader Joe's shortly thereafter to buy food. It felt great to be out in the world again. Even with the imprisoning sense of dizziness and confusion, it made all the different in the world to just be doing something. I hadn't realized before just how hooked I am on my insanely busy lifestyle that I complain about so much.

And here's another point (the third, if you're keeping score) to this perhaps too exciting post: we craft our own lives. If I genuinely didn't enjoy being busy and rushing around all the time, I would drop some activities and make room on my schedule, but I'd rather go grocery shopping on anti-nausea meds! In the future, I'll at least try to acknowledge the absurdity of my complaints, if I can't curtail making them altogether.

There is a happy ending to all this: I kept dinner down Monday night, and by Tuesday, I was off the meds (still a day or two away from working it out of my system and being free of side-effects though), eating normally (ok, so lots of applesauce, dry cereal, and a little brown right isn't normal), and I even took a yoga class!

Next point to this post: Obviously Saturday through Monday I was not taking yoga class at Namaste per the 30-day challenge as mentioned in the last post. If people I loved had had a say in the matter I may not have taken a class Tuesday either, but mentally speaking, I desperately needed it. It felt amazing to move my body in that way again. So, in spite of all the angst this challenge has entailed, and with less than a week to go, it worked! I'm hooked! I can't wait to take my yoga class today. Go me! Go Namaste!

Today, I feel a good 93% of the way to normal, which is to say, absolutely amazing! In spite of the trials and tribulations, even if they could have been avoided, I don't regret having my wisdom teeth out Friday because, here is the last (and fourth) point, I learned from it. A lot. And that is the point of everything.

Live Omily, hang onto your wisdom if not your teeth!


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  2. You poor adorable little thing... gosh. I knew you were sick but this post really illustrated how miserable you were. You shoulda' called on Monday, I would have stopped freelance work to deliver chicken noodle soup... or to join you in misery. Yuck... glad to hear it's over.