Tired, but alive - 3:20 a.m. - 2003-02-27

I got all four of my wisdom teeth removed on Tuesday, around noon. Piece of cake.

The gas was spectacular. When she put the IV in, I thought it was the anesthetic that was fucking me up. However, when the surgeon came in, she told me she was going to 'start the IV', and I looked as she opened the valve which let out the liquid pain-be-gone. Crazy. The gas made me feel like that two seconds after I've had about nine beers (I'm a cheap drunk) and two seconds before I am overwhelmed with nausea before puking. The nausea never came. I enjoyed it to it's fullest.

I don't remember drifting off, but I remember opening my eyes and realising the surgeon was cramming the drill into my upper left wisdom tooth and asking me if I was OK.

My brother Darrell had his wisdom teeth taken out exactly 24 hours before, and was at home recouping. I took one anti-biotic and one Tylenol 3 when I got home, and another of each 4 hours later. I was awake the whole afternoon, evening, and most of the night. I had expected to be knocked out by the codiene, and for the most part I just wanted to go to sleep, but found myself painting an Exploding Dog inspired mini-mural on a wall in my room at 3:30am.


I have been up since 1pm Wednesday, and in much better condition than my brother, considering he's a day ahead of me. I have literally no sign of swelling with very minimal pain, while he's still puffed up and complaining. He's out cold, and I'm still awake. My poor bro.

Anyway, I couldn't sleep again, even after taking a second Tylenol 3. I was thinking too much about things I wanted to do, like set up a weblog-style diary to record the books I read from now on, among other things.

I should get back though, my love is sleeping, and I miss her.


Patriotism


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