Thanksgiving Weekend and a Lack of Witty Titles

My week has been a long one, Reader. First, I had school and work on Monday. However, blissfully, we didn't have any classes for the rest of the week. In fact, the campus is closed until this coming Monday. Unfortunately, as I may have previously mentioned, I was scheduled for a wisdom tooth extraction on Tuesday morning--the 24th, for those keeping track.

Loyal to my word, I didn't eat or drink after midnight the night before. I showered and brushed my teeth the morning of and took my two Valium with a sip of water as required. (I mentioned that I was freaked out at the idea of surgery, the doctor handed me a prescription. What ever happened to calming words? Better living through chemistry, I suppose.) When we got to the office, I was feeling pretty damned mellow. In fact, I can easily see how so many people can enjoy Valium. You're coherent. There's no drug fog. You just don't really care about much of anything. There's no anxiety. There's no feeling. You just kinda are.

I was hooked up to several annoying, beeping machines. I was left in the room with my husband. The doctor finally came in and tried to get a vein so they could give me the sodium pentathol. First, I have to mention that his technique was awful. For a man who spends much of his time giving injections, he was really really bad at finding my vein. In fact, he did the worst thing ever, which was smack the spots on my arms and hands that he was trying to find them. Other than the amazing ability to piss off a patient, this technique also boasts the joy of actually making veins HARDER to find. Smart, doc. Somewhere after that injection, I recall something being fitted over my face. After that, I don't recall.

What I do recall, however, is waking up during the procedure to intense pain. I was waking up while they were still pulling teeth!! With fingers and instruments in my mouth, I couldn't do much other than moan, but it was enough to get the message across. I couldn't really open my eyes. I heard them tell me that I was doing great and that it was almost over--is that just something people tell you in the midst of pain? I distinctly recall having heard those words associated with childbirth as well--and then I was waking up later. I recall asking to see my teeth and being told that someone else already took them out of the room. (Hell, I figure if I had to pay $1400 to have them removed, the least you could do is show the bitches to me, right?!) Then, I was being walked to a recovery room.

I was surprisingly awake afterward. My mouth was numb, which all the nurses and people knew, and yet they insisted on asking me questions. Really? How in the hell do you expect me to respond when I can't feel my tongue and my mouth is stuffed with cotton?! But, you make the requisite noises in response and the struggle to understand what you said that ensues you have the misfortune of trying to find vaguely comical somehow. I bled for the rest of the day, but I slept pretty damned well.

The pain hasn't been that bad. The doctor gave me percocet, roxan, and clindamycin to have filled before the day of the surgery. All I had to do was take them when I got home. He also gave me an additional prescription for darvocet. I was thinking they were crazy during the first few days because the pain wasn't bad enough to warrant another round of narcotics. Now, however, I think I'm changing my mind. The pain is a little bit worse, but it's not the sockets themselves. It's all the surrounding tissues. Even my sinuses ache. I'm a little worried about dry socket, which doesn't seem to be happening, but I'll worry until I know more because that's just how I am. At any rate, if the pain doesn't significantly lessen by the time Tuesday rolls back around, I'll be calling their offices. As it stands, ice packs and heat are helping, so I'm not too worked up about it.

Thanksgiving wasn't all that bad. I had anticipated that things would be much much worse. My father had been angry with the family for a few days before. I don't blame him. Things get too crazy around here. But, of course, because he was upset, they had to be upset too. Then, we play the game where we try to pull everyone else into the middle. Mostly, I just don't care to hear it. I get really tired of the attitudes. I work too hard to have to put up with the bullshit.

My twin came into town as well as my great aunt and uncle, who we call Grandma Linda and Grandpa Jack--we've always called them that. It wasn't that bad. Things were a little rough at first, but by dinner people were warming up to each other. All in all, we had a nice time. The food was good, though I may have overdone it, being fresh out of surgery like I was. I should have avoided the turkey and focused more attention on the potatoes.

The tension at least dissipated. Things just get a little crowded around here. They spend so much time around each other that eventually they just want to blow up about it. The only thing that JJ and I have going for us here is that we get out of the house regularly. We have obligations and things that keep us occupied, so when we're home, we tend to appreciate the fact that we're home a little more. The rest of them not having jobs--save my twin, of course, who is down at college the rest of the year--just puts them around each other too much. They just need to stick to their separate corners more often...or at least, more often around family holidays when feelings are already strained.

The only good thing to come of being post-op in the midst of family warfare was that I got to use the phrase, "Seriously, guys, stop it. You're ruining my buzz." Much to my shock, it actually worked at diffusing the situation. Chalk one up for the selfish, stoned girl at the table.

I don't mean to neglect the blog, but my pain meds are kicking in again. (I can tell when they do, too. It's a very distinct reality shift. Very very distinct.) I think I need to get myself a little more sleep. I'll try to write more later. A Belated Happy Thanksgiving to all!

Happy Anniversary!

First, Happy Anniversary to my husband! Today marks our second year of marriage!

Today, I'm feeling very positive. My paper for English tonight is complete, and I think it's a very good paper. Indeed, I wouldn't have been able to make it so great if not for Kevin, who helped me immensely. Not only that, he also complemented me liberally which was nice because it's always horrible for one's ego to have another critique one's writing. It was nice that someone else had faith in my abilities.

This morning, Jim helped me work on a scholarship essay. He was really very helpful, and I feel like I came out with a much better essay because of him. I turned in a final product that I was very confident about, but now it's just a waiting game. We'll see who ends up getting nominated for Owens. (The scholarship in question is the Jack Kent Cooke scholarship. It's $30,000 a year for up to 3 years. Super important! Fingers crossed for me, okay?!) Needless to say, it's been a day of writing for me, a theme that I'll have to continue well into tomorrow in order to finish my essay about the common traits suffragists share. At any rate, I'm feeling productive.

Scholarship essay: done. English paper: done. History paper: in progress and coming along nicely. Take-home Chem test: not begun. All in all, not bad.

As Aimee Mann Says...

Alright, so here we are again, dear old friends! It's been a while, I know. Forgive me! My life is hectic and chaotic. As the blog says, overworked and underpaid.

My car has been leaking oil furiously, which, of course, is going to cost copious amounts of money. I have to pay for my oral surgery still, however, and thus I will not be able to pay for both. So, do I keep the car and postpone the surgery, or do I keep the surgery date and postpone the car? To drive to classes and work or to be finished with the pressure in my mouth, that is the question. (I have always had the feeling that people who add the phrase "that is the question" to the end of a sentence feel that Hamlet had nothing on them. Yet, how many of us can claim to have had to fight our kingdoms away from our adultering uncle who killed our father? Not many, I'm willing to bet. Hamlet is still worse off than I am.)

This, of course, does not mention my academic strain. I skipped a class last night, despite my better judgment. I felt horrible and depressed about my car and the state of my finances. It was really better that I wasn't there. I wouldn't have been paying attention because I was sick, and then I'd have been paying even less attention because I'd be too preoccupied with paying for my life, which is the one thing that I can't seem to manage to do. It was a good thing that we went home too, because later that night I had a crying jag. In fact, that seems to be something that I've been doing a lot of lately.

I cry when something is sad. I cry when something is happy. I cry when something is triumphant. I cry when something is overwhelming. I cry when something is underwhelming. I am beginning to wonder if I have some kind of hormonal imbalance or something. Lord knows I'm not usually this emotional. In the past, I was irritated with myself if I didn't seem to cry enough at sad things. Now, I cry at things that aren't sad at all! I found myself fighting off tears watching movies about women's suffrage in history class! How ridiculous am I these days? I mean, really!

I keep thinking that JJ and I would be better off living on our own again, but then I wonder where we'd get the money to be able to do that. We're a burden on my parents who can't make enough to support themselves as it is. Normally, we'd be contributing to them, but we haven't been able to do that lately either with all the car issues. So what are we supposed to do? The sad part is that if we had been stupid and had kids early, we'd be basically taken care of, especially being back in school like this. It makes me sad that intelligent, hard-working people like my husband and I can't make it in this world, but ignorant, lazy welfare parents can do just fine.

I'm feeling jaded and sad today. It's like the weight of the world is on my shoulders, but it never goes away. Just when I shift the weight to a comfortable position, more of it gets heaped on top.