Behold a fairly gross photo of me taken right before bed the night after my latest hideous dental surgery. In order for the twenty or so stitches to heal over the three screws and bone graft that were just implanted, I need to remove my removable front teeth (aka, temporary denture) before bed each night. I don't have to wear the mask, but I refuse to look at my gums, which are all stitched up and have a titanium bolt sticking out of the bottom. Ugh. Once that image is in my head, I know it will never leave. I can live without it.
The cancer surgery I had was absolutely nothing on the pain scale next to the carvings I've had done in my mouth. Luckily, when you get cancer (even if it's a wussy stage-one melanoma), they give you these incredibly strong painkillers. I used about two pills after my surgery and hoarded the rest for just this kind of occasion. I spent three hours in the chair with the dentist drilling into my head. She'd be deep into my upper jaw and the novocaine would run out. Seriously—this happened about three times. I'd start to yell and once I actually hyperventilated like a lunatic. The pain was unbelievable. Also, injections into your palate do not "feel like a pinch," they feel like a spike being jammed up into your brain. As I was leaving the office, face swollen and blood crusted around my lips, the dentist offered me a Motrin.
That shit doesn't even work on period cramps.
Anyway, enough complaining. I'm in the midst of yet another health scare, which will hopefully turn out to be nothing, but I won't know for a few days. (It's probably nothing.) I'm so sick and tired of feeling like shit and having absolutely nothing to say unless it's to bitch about my stupid health. Do you want to hear about my bowels? (Kidding—my poop appears to be in great shape!) I'm writing a bunch, which is great, but I feel like the worst friend/family member/freelancer on the planet because I've been such a miserable bee-yotch this past year. So, sorry, you guys. I'll try to do better.