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missroseroseThe good news is, I get a four-day weekend.
The bad news is, I'm either going to be in pain or stoned for most of it.
That's right, I'm getting my wisdom teeth pulled tomorrow at 8:45 in the morning. Hopefully they'll give me Vicodin. After-effects aside (the only time I've ever been on it, I woke up six hours later and stumbled into the bathroom nauseous and almost exactly the color of a dead fish), it kills the pain, which is what matters. Or more precisely, it doesn't stop the pain, it just makes you quit caring about it.
I'm really kind of apprehensive about it. For one thing, it's likely to be a pretty involved procedure - the teeth are severely impacted, and the dentist I saw a year ago told me that I had to get them out right away (this was in Barrow, so there wasn't an oral surgeon handy). I somehow doubt things have gotten any better in the interim. On the plus side, however, I'm going to be unconscious for the actual procedure, and they'll give me drugs of some sort. And I don't exactly have anything lined up for the next few days, so if I spend them in a drugged-out haze my life will still be there when I get back.
In much cuter and fluffier news, Brian and I are going to go to the humane society on Saturday (assuming I'm up for it) and visit the cats. Supposedly they have rather a lot of them there at the moment, and since we're not going to have a gi-normous poodle in our apartment, we can think about getting a cat. It's probably going to be a little while before we actually adopt one (Brian's not quite ready to take on another pet yet, which I can understand considering that Satchi was his family dog for nigh on 12 years), but we can at least play with a few of them and see if there are any who choose us. ;)
Anyway, everyone wish me luck...
The bad news is, I'm either going to be in pain or stoned for most of it.
That's right, I'm getting my wisdom teeth pulled tomorrow at 8:45 in the morning. Hopefully they'll give me Vicodin. After-effects aside (the only time I've ever been on it, I woke up six hours later and stumbled into the bathroom nauseous and almost exactly the color of a dead fish), it kills the pain, which is what matters. Or more precisely, it doesn't stop the pain, it just makes you quit caring about it.
I'm really kind of apprehensive about it. For one thing, it's likely to be a pretty involved procedure - the teeth are severely impacted, and the dentist I saw a year ago told me that I had to get them out right away (this was in Barrow, so there wasn't an oral surgeon handy). I somehow doubt things have gotten any better in the interim. On the plus side, however, I'm going to be unconscious for the actual procedure, and they'll give me drugs of some sort. And I don't exactly have anything lined up for the next few days, so if I spend them in a drugged-out haze my life will still be there when I get back.
In much cuter and fluffier news, Brian and I are going to go to the humane society on Saturday (assuming I'm up for it) and visit the cats. Supposedly they have rather a lot of them there at the moment, and since we're not going to have a gi-normous poodle in our apartment, we can think about getting a cat. It's probably going to be a little while before we actually adopt one (Brian's not quite ready to take on another pet yet, which I can understand considering that Satchi was his family dog for nigh on 12 years), but we can at least play with a few of them and see if there are any who choose us. ;)
Anyway, everyone wish me luck...
