What is it about blogging under the influence that’s such great fun? I’ve blogged while intoxicated by at least three different substances, and for some reason it’s been uniformly great.
I write to you today high as a kite on hydrocodone. I had a filling done earlier this week and, like my forebears in times now past, clenched and ground my teeth in my sleep in response. This resulted in a strange scene around two o’clock this morning: me, insane on the bathroom floor, and my girlfriend on the phone with my mother.
What strange and horrible pain. It was much, much worse than the dental agonies I survived during the saga of my wisdom teeth a few months ago. I have a pretty high tolerance for pain, but this I felt I could not bear. It made me cry. When have I ever cried because of a physical sensation? Not since childhood, I’m sure. Five push-pin piercings, a homemade tattoo, a parlor tattoo, wisdom teeth growing in and getting yanked out… None of it coming anywhere close to this. On the pain scale of one to ten, I think this was an eleven.
At my mother’s advice, I took 800 milligrams of ibuprofen, and my girlfriend put ice cubes into a ziplock bag, wrapped the bag in a shirt. Even the full force of the ibuprofen only reduce the pain from “completely unbearable” to “very bad,” from eleven to perhaps seven, maybe six. Somehow, with the ice against my face, I managed to capture some snatches of sleep.
I woke up at 6:30, took another 800. At nine o’clock I awoke again — by this time I had decided against school — and felt my teeth starting to work themselves up to that fever-pitch again. The pain was in full force more than an hour before I was due for another dose.
Some time and many tears later, my mother had made me a dentist appointment, and my father had brought me the hydrocodone left over from the wisdom teeth procedure. I have never been so grateful for analgesics.
The dentist concluded that nothing was wrong with the tooth or the filling, just my anxious jaw clamping down on itself. Got a temporary night-guard — a plastic contraption that prevents you from putting too much pressure on your teeth — and instructions to take the hydrocodone as needed, and to call if I develop acute pain on the recently filled tooth, or swelling, or a fever.
And that’s how I got here. The pills make everything pillow-soft. The many tracks of my brain have been closed; I focus only on one thing at a time. I don’t know that I’ve ever read blogs so carefully, so diligently, collecting every precious word in the one operational facility of my conscious mind. I read every single post on Boing Boing today, every single word.
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