Monday, October 13, 2008

Let's hope is over...

I had my FINAL appointment with the oral surgeon on Friday morning. He really is a nice guy but I think we should have had a more in-depth discussion of his definition of the word "SORE" and my definition. My definition: sore = an sort-of slow, dull ache that I can forget about. My reality: within 1 hour of leaving his office I was in that same terrible pain again! People, I tried to tough it out. I didn't want to leave work early because I had afternoon appointments and a mountain of administrative work to complete; however, after suffering for several hours I decided my production level was zero and it was time to retreat to a land of Vicodin and sleep. By the time I drove myself home I could barely drag myself out of the car and up to bed. (SIGH) One pain pill and several hours of sleep later and I still wasn't feeling great. In fact, I was still in a lot of pain - the pain pill was barely making a dent. I ate some food and attempted to get ready for the theatre because I already paid for the tickets and didn't want to miss the show. I did manage to make myself decent for the show but I certainly wasn't a fun date and the show was really great but I know it would have been better if had been feeling well. After the theatre, L dropped me off and I crawled back into bed where I continued to be in a lot of pain and generally feel like absolute shit. Finally, after hours more of suffering and crying I broke down and called Urban Cowboy and asked him to come home because I just couldn't handle this alone anymore. He came, bless him, within 10 minutes and I felt bad because he left fun times with his brother at the bar just to lay with me and rub my back and try to comfort me. I finally fell asleep, with the help of yet another pain pill, and hoped for a better day on Saturday. Saturday started off ok. I felt ok. The pain was there but not too bad and I wasn't feeling like I was going to die. Then, in a flash, all the pain came back and I was at my emotional/mental breaking point and I just started sobbing for the pain to leave me. Urban Cowboy was very upset by this and immediately had me on the phone with the oral surgeon who, of course, did not answer and then I immediately called the health insurance advice line to see if a nurse could offer some type of relief. We talked for a bit, her and I, and she told me I was dealing with a "triple-whammy" kind of pain: 1) bone pain because he had to cut into my jaw bone to remove the bottom two wisdom teeth, 2) nerve pain because that's why dry socket is, 3) muscle pain from my face/neck muscles being forced to hold it all together. She told me she's seen burly, 300 lbs. men cry from the pain of dry socket. She told me to not be a "soldier" and to take the pain pills if I needed them to make it through. Other than that, there's nothing anyone could do and she couldn't offer any more advice. She did say that if I ran out of the Vicodin I could go to the ER to get more. Well, anyway, after sobbing my life energy out of me and talking with that nice woman, I went back to bed. When I woke up I felt better. Really and truly better. It was was as though I needed to have that break down for my body to really rally and say "Let's fight this, bitches!". So, as the day wore on I kept feeling a bit better and as Sunday rolled in I continued to feel ok. Today, I'm feeling 90% of my normal self! Yea! I think it really is over and then I will never, ever have to experience this again!!!

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