something is scratching its way out.

Ok, I’ve never been into drugs, but these things (stupid pills) have not been working. I look like a chipmunk and I’m honestly afraid that my facial epidermis cannot stretch any more than it has already–and I worry also for afterwards, in fear that I’ll have terrifying stretch marks on my cheeks like pregnant women have on their bellies, because it looks like both my cheeks have buns in the ovens and are about to pop something terrifying out of there.

"Need druuuuuugs!"

So yeah, Dr. Burger (and what the hell kind of name is that for a guy who pulls teeth and gives patients sheets of things they can’t eat, which includes burgers) why didn’t you give me the good stuff? I wouldn’t mind staying in that operating room for a week if you kept me on that special gas; I wouldn’t even mind the IV, even though that thing freaked me out. I still remember the rubber band somebody put on my upperarm to thicken the vein you needed to STAB. You stabbed me, sir, once in the arm, and once in the back with a bottle of these WEAK pills.

And you know what? I need pills. I need fricken stronger pills. I don’t even care if I go through drug withdrawal. I’ll suffer through that. I’ve decided.

And besides. It might even be a good lesson. (1. don’t get your teeth pulled out again, 2. don’t worry about getting fat, being unable to eat is the worst thign EVER, 3. tell your doc you have a resistance to pills and need the hard stuff, because this is not fun. NOT FUN., 4. the real lesson would be not to do drugs, because they are evil, except for the pain killing kind.)

And I look like a chipmunk. I keep worring something is going to fall out the sides of my face, my cheeks are so huge.I want to go out. I’m so sick of mashed potatoes that if I eat anymore, I’ll throw up.

I’m goign to go lie down now.

Got my four wisdom teeth pulled!

Is it so wrong to wake up from being drugged during surgery and wonder about the technical medical stuff going on in my mouth? Of course, being under nitrous oxide and some drug via an IV (which hurt, goddamnit!)  that made me feel like I was flying (fun! not quite what you’d think it’d be like), well, it was a little difficult getting answers because it was a little more difficult to actually speak.

It’s about 8 hours later and my lower jaw is still numb and feels like it’s twice its normal size, but it’s not! I check every so often in the mirror. There is a mild ache, but that could be more psychological than physical as it seems to me as if I ought to be in more pain than I am. But I’m not complaining! (Don’t you make me regret saying that, universe!)

I think the torture part comes in the form of being unable to eat. I want chips and dip and Chipotle and Buffalo Wing Factory wings…It’s like I’m a baby, except aware of the fact that I can’t chew (or suffer the consequences of being unable to eat normal food for even long after potentially getting an infection), or rather, it’s more like I’m an elderly person all of a sudden and must swallow mushy foods.

Tomorrow I am raiding Giant and getting food to eat now while I am a baby/old person, and food that I’ll be able to eat later when I’m grown up (to a nice age) again–those foods will be like edible trophies to celebrate the fact that I got over it.

Frankie got his out as well, and apparently he’s all set to go. He’s very culit, which is a Filipino term that means: whiny, annoyingly persistent, naggy, and essentially like a bulldog who won’t let a topic go. That topic is eating and going out–he wants to go to friends’ houses, which the parents both said no to, and he wants to eat and eat and eat, which he can’t unless he wants to risk an infection. But…well, that’s pretty much his personality–he gets an idea into his head and can’t let go, even if the answer is no, no, no.

He’s allowed to frolic tomorrow though, and he’s already planning a trip to IHOP, Taco Bell, Chipotle, McDonalds, and various friends’ houses.

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Anyway, just wanted to add a post when something interesting (surgery! and drugs!) happened.

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Oh!

Had my phone interview with The Chronicle of Higher Education for a summer editorial internship, but I haven’t gotten a call back. Oh well! It was a good experience though, I think. Mom and Dad suggested that I write down notes about things to talk about in response to possible questions they may ask, so I did that the night before, but they didn’t end up asking me about any of those topics. It was more of a question and answer about the five clips (published articles) I sent in, and also questions about my internship and activities.

I think they should hire me. But oh well. Hopefully SOMEbody wants me! :P Or this summer will SUCK.

Ok, well, adios! Perhaps I’ll write again! And with hopefully more interesting bits.