Drugs + Tarythe = Bad

"Alright, put down 2 B, 3 MO, 4 OD, 6 F, 7 DF, 13 MOD...19 DO, 19 B, 29 MOD, 30 OD..."

I tried not to wince as the dentist poked and prodded and scraped my teeth, giving his nurse notes on their condition. A man walked into the room and looked around.

"I've also got a 3 labial facial caries: on 6, 7, and 13. And the 4 extractions are: 1 and 16 regular, 17 and 32 partially impacted in the soft tissue," the dentist continued. The random man looked at the x-rays of my teeth, mumbled a few things to himself, and walked out.

Wait a minute, impacted? That can't be good. Aren't impacted teeth supposed to be painful to remove? Don't cry don't cry don't cry...

The dentist stopped poking inside my mouth and looked at me. I eyed him sideways from the dentist's chair, wary of what he might say next.

"Well, it looks like we've got some cavities to take care of, young lady. We'll try to get you scheduled to get your wisdom teeth pulled as soon as possible; these bottom ones look like they are really hurting you already, especially the right one. How's about we do the fillings then too, take care of everything at once?" I asked if I could be sedated. "Oh, yes, of course. We'll put you out for the whole procedure and you won't even know what's happening."

"Alright," I said. Just then the same random man from earlier walked into the room again. "You know, when I had my wisdom teeth out I was semi-conscious. I could see everything...it was the oddest sensation."

I looked back at the dentist in a panic, and he reassured me that I had nothing to worry about; I would be completly out for the whole procedure. The random man was ushered out of the room. The nurse took two more x-rays, and Penney scheduled an appointment for next Friday. She told me to have soft foods ready to eat after the operation; to take the valium pill 1 hour before the appointment; and not to drive, drink alcohol, or operate heavy machinery for a few days afterwards. I left the office, not sure what to think; I was scared, as I hate going to the dentist more than anywhere else, but at the same time grateful that I would be asleep for the entire procedure. It'll be a 3-hour surgery that I definitely do not want to be awake for.

A week seems a long time to wait when my mouth is already killing me, so the nurse gave me some drugs to tide me over. The drug that she gave me came in liquid form and is to be taken 4 or 5 times a day. It contains codeine, a narcotic analgesic; it's supposed to dull the pain of my already-throbbing wisdom tooth until next Friday. I took some on Thursday morning, and suddenly the world looked soft and pink. Nothing seemed to really matter that much; I was nauseous, and I was dizzy, but I was mellow. Ah, so this is how narcotics feel. My gums hurt a lot less than they would have, but the down side was that I felt sick all day. And though I was mellow most of the day, when I did get upset it was intense.

One of my teams lost their NCAA game on Thursday night. Syracuse lost to Texas A&M (of all people), and I just couldn't handle it. Scott and I were competitive over that particular game anyway; his family are die-hard A&M fans. We spent most of the game wondering who wasn't going to speak to whom when their team lost, insisting, of course, that it would be the other person who was maddened into silence. After an agonizing last few minutes of the game, Syracuse couldn't pull ahead and the game ended with a score of 66-58, A&M.

I was furious; I suddenly had the urge to lash out, and I decided it would be a better idea to walk away than risk injuring someone. I walked out of my apartment and over to the stairs, leaving Scott and my roommates wondering what my problem was. The thing was, I didn't know. I sat down on the top step and put my head in my hands, breathing heavily. I was shaking with rage and didn't stop for the next 20 minutes. I rarely get so upset about anything, and never over anything as trivial as a basketball game. I hated the way I felt; I couldn't control my emotions and I felt sick. The drugs were definitely working me over. Scott came out to find me and, after holding me for awhile, took me to get ice cream. It helped. I stopped shaking, started breathing normally, and then just felt weak. I had exerted all the energy I'd had in containing my anger. After we finished our ice cream, Scott went home, and so did I. I worked on my computer for an hour or so, checking my email and the scores of basketball games that had ended after I'd stormed out. I then went to bed and lie awake thinking for awhile. When I did fall asleep, I slept better than I have for months. At least the codeine was good for something.

Seems quite a costly way to get some sleep, though.