As I mentioned in my post of the 16th, I’d required oral surgery during the first week of the month. For a minute, after the “Hot-Bone” re-check and follow-up, it looked like things were on the mend. Not so. The pain returned and slowly intensified over the following week. The medications were ineffective in alleviating the pain. I was back in the office of the oral surgeon on the 20th. Left with another go-round of medications and sincere Happy Holiday Wishes from the staff. All were hopeful, including myself, that I would find relief and heal. Didn’t happen.
By Christmas night, I was vomiting, running a fever and trembling from hurting so bad. By a miracle, one of the doctors involved in the initial surgery was on call Christmas night. After spending a good amount of time with me on the phone we decided the fever and vomiting was attributed to the flu. Greeeaaat. Now I had the flu on top of everything else. He was concerned about the pain and made room for me in his Friday schedule – which was awesome but that meant I still had to travel by train into the city to get TO the office. Walk from my place to the light rail stop, take the light rail to the train station, board the train and tough out a two hour trip. Get off the train downtown in the city and take another light rail to within a quarter mile of the office to which I would walk the rest of the way. All this while being in utter agony and on the verge of vomiting. After leaving the office, I’d have to do it all again in reverse.
Once there, it was determined that only one socket was healing. For whatever reason, the top socket was not, possibly due to an infection which they finally decided had developed as well. Also adding to the pain were muscular issues at the site of the joint. On a ‘pain’ scale of 1 – 10, with 10 being the most painful, I was maintaining a 12! New prescriptions were written, anti-biotic, muscle relaxant and a pain med with double the narcotic to it. Leaving the office, after having had those raw and painful tissues poked, prodded, squeezed and drained, my pain level maxed out to at least a 13, if not higher. Yes, I had the flu and was nauseous from that, but the pain increased the nausea as well. I was a freakin mess!
I made the light rail to the train station, but knew I’d never make a two hour trip without throwing up. These were commuter trains and don’t have bathrooms. I needed some plastic bags. Thirty minutes remained for the next train south. I surveyed the small food court and decided Subway Sandwiches would have ‘to-go’ bags. If you know how Subway works, you know you order your sandwich at the far end of the counter and walk along with the food handler on the other side of the counter puts your sandwich together. By the time you’ve reached the register, your sandwich is done. I wasn’t ordering any food so I didn’t get ‘in line’. There were two Chinese women behind the counter working the store. Two men were in the line watching their sandwiches being made and one man at the register paying for his. As the man stepped away from the register, I stepped forward into his place. Before I could get two words out, the little Chinese woman barked at me, “What you want?! You no in line! What you want?!!”
“Please, I’m not feeling well, may I just get a bag?” Her eyes got all big and she started shooing me away with her bony claw like hands, “No! No!” she was sqauking now, “No bags for you! You no in line! You no buy food! No bags for you!”
“I don’t need food, I feel sick, I just need a bag. I’ll gladly pay you for one . . . . . . .” but she was squaking over me, refusing to listen. “No food, no bag!” all the while shooing at me like I was some unwanted dog. The man standing beside me – the one I cut in front of, leaned in toward the register and said, “Jesus, lady, give the woman a bag.”
“No! No! No! No food, no bag!” The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a dollar bill and shoved it at the little woman. “Here, will this cover it?” She looked at it, and in a flash, had snatched it and slipped it into her pocket. Then she handed me a bag. “You go away now!” Gladly. I thanked the man for his help, “No problem,” he said, “I noticed we’ll be on the same train and you don’t look so good.” That was the understatement of the century.
Once on board and in motion, I texted Pip to let her know my ETA and that I needed her to drive me to the pharmacy immediately upon arrival. And then I closed my eyes, bracing myself for another two hours of agonizing stops and starts.
I arrived home at 4:30, and Pip, bless her was ready. We drove to the pharmacy, I went inside and stood in line. The pharmacy tech looked over the prescriptions I handed her and said, “Uh, this pain medication doesn’t exist in this dose, can you call your doctor back?” No I couldn’t call my doctor back, he was two hours away and wasn’t supposed to be in today anyway. “Well, all I can do is call and leave a message for him to return my call.” I looked at the clock, 4:55. My heart sank. I was absolutely ready to say my Good-byes and shoot myself in the face. I didn’t have any words. “I’ll do what I can she said.” I thanked her and rejoined Pip in the car. I was trying so hard not to cry outright. I hurt sooooo bad and had for two weeks without and respite. Piper looked at me for instructions. “Apparently the pain medication I need so bad doesn’t exist in the formula the doctor prescribed.” I wiped at a tear, she squeezed my hand. “What about the other two,” she asked. I told her they’d be fine then asked her to take me to the grocery, I needed a ginger ale to settle my tummy and wanted to take my medications immediately as soon as I got them.
Into the grocery and out I came with ginger ale and chicken broth. Pip pulled us back into traffic and headed back to the pharmacy, I reached for my bottle of pop, twisted the cap and pppppffhhhhuuunnfff!!!!!!!!! It exploded!!! That freakin sonuvabitch exploded!!! Not a drippy down the side little spurt, but an all-out blast of Hail Mary proportions!! Pop was dripping off the ceiling, fizzeling down the dashboard, the windows, the door, pooling in my lap and dripping off my hair, chin and hands. That was IT!! That was the last freakin straw!! No more fighting tears, they came. And they came, and they came!!! Shoulders shaking, eyes dripping - sobbing. Piper was silent, eyes on the road.
There were no towels in the car, no napkins. Just a sticky, drippy, drooling crying mess. We pulled into the parking lot of the pharmacy, she suggested the drive through, I said I wanted to talk with the pharmacist about the pain med. Pip didn’t argue. I sloshed my way back into the store, back in line, praying there would be good news about the medication.
You know it’s kind of funny now that I think of it. Obviously I was having one of the worst moments of one of the worst two weeks of my life. By the wild and crazed look in my eyes anyone could tell I was in extreme pain. And also just by looking at me you could tell I’d recently been doused against my will by some sort of mishap with a liquid substance. It was, after all, still dripping from my hair and the front of my clothes were visibly soaked. And yet, only one person addressed their curiosity or my discomfort. Everyone, with the exception of one man, just smiled, ignoring the obvious and was pretending like it was any nice ol’ day in the WalGreen’s Pharmacy. I hurt too bad to sit down, and I hurt too bad to stand still. I was pacing, with one hand holding the side of my face. One gentleman kept looking over his shoulder at me. I finally stopped avoiding eye contact with him and met his gaze dead on. He shrugged his shoulders, “Duuuude,” he said shaking his head from side to side, taking in the whole disastrous scene that was me. “Duude, you got a tooth ache?”
“That was last week,” I managed to get out, “now it’s an infection.” Tsk, tsk, he’s shaking his head again, “Mannnn, that’s the worst, you look like you’re having a rough day!” I nodded, yeah rough friggin day. The tech called me over, she’d been able to get ahold of the doctor, all was well and would I please sign here for my medications. Gladly! Scribble, scribble, scratch, scratch and out the door I went. The one man who had talked to me called after me as I was heading out, “I hope you get better soon!” My face hurt too bad to smile, but my heart smiled a Thank You anyway.
In the car, I opened those bottles, took one of each and held my breath till we got home. Piper helped me timeout my medication schedule, I stripped down naked and flopped into bed – yep without even showering. The way things had been going for me, who knew what might befall me if I tried to shower first, nope just straight to bed. Within minutes, I felt that new medication start to kick in. Relief for the first time in nineteen days. Then I slept for three days. Truly, I slept, waking only for a snack to go with medications, then back to sleep again for three days and all the nights in between.
And that is how my year has ended. No time for reflection, no time for analyzing, no time for dreaming or making plans. Christmas was shot to Hell. Hell, December was shot to hell. I lost a whole month! And I missed the 49ers/Cardinals game yesterday! I feel robbed!
By Christmas night, I was vomiting, running a fever and trembling from hurting so bad. By a miracle, one of the doctors involved in the initial surgery was on call Christmas night. After spending a good amount of time with me on the phone we decided the fever and vomiting was attributed to the flu. Greeeaaat. Now I had the flu on top of everything else. He was concerned about the pain and made room for me in his Friday schedule – which was awesome but that meant I still had to travel by train into the city to get TO the office. Walk from my place to the light rail stop, take the light rail to the train station, board the train and tough out a two hour trip. Get off the train downtown in the city and take another light rail to within a quarter mile of the office to which I would walk the rest of the way. All this while being in utter agony and on the verge of vomiting. After leaving the office, I’d have to do it all again in reverse.
Once there, it was determined that only one socket was healing. For whatever reason, the top socket was not, possibly due to an infection which they finally decided had developed as well. Also adding to the pain were muscular issues at the site of the joint. On a ‘pain’ scale of 1 – 10, with 10 being the most painful, I was maintaining a 12! New prescriptions were written, anti-biotic, muscle relaxant and a pain med with double the narcotic to it. Leaving the office, after having had those raw and painful tissues poked, prodded, squeezed and drained, my pain level maxed out to at least a 13, if not higher. Yes, I had the flu and was nauseous from that, but the pain increased the nausea as well. I was a freakin mess!
I made the light rail to the train station, but knew I’d never make a two hour trip without throwing up. These were commuter trains and don’t have bathrooms. I needed some plastic bags. Thirty minutes remained for the next train south. I surveyed the small food court and decided Subway Sandwiches would have ‘to-go’ bags. If you know how Subway works, you know you order your sandwich at the far end of the counter and walk along with the food handler on the other side of the counter puts your sandwich together. By the time you’ve reached the register, your sandwich is done. I wasn’t ordering any food so I didn’t get ‘in line’. There were two Chinese women behind the counter working the store. Two men were in the line watching their sandwiches being made and one man at the register paying for his. As the man stepped away from the register, I stepped forward into his place. Before I could get two words out, the little Chinese woman barked at me, “What you want?! You no in line! What you want?!!”
“Please, I’m not feeling well, may I just get a bag?” Her eyes got all big and she started shooing me away with her bony claw like hands, “No! No!” she was sqauking now, “No bags for you! You no in line! You no buy food! No bags for you!”
“I don’t need food, I feel sick, I just need a bag. I’ll gladly pay you for one . . . . . . .” but she was squaking over me, refusing to listen. “No food, no bag!” all the while shooing at me like I was some unwanted dog. The man standing beside me – the one I cut in front of, leaned in toward the register and said, “Jesus, lady, give the woman a bag.”
“No! No! No! No food, no bag!” The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a dollar bill and shoved it at the little woman. “Here, will this cover it?” She looked at it, and in a flash, had snatched it and slipped it into her pocket. Then she handed me a bag. “You go away now!” Gladly. I thanked the man for his help, “No problem,” he said, “I noticed we’ll be on the same train and you don’t look so good.” That was the understatement of the century.
Once on board and in motion, I texted Pip to let her know my ETA and that I needed her to drive me to the pharmacy immediately upon arrival. And then I closed my eyes, bracing myself for another two hours of agonizing stops and starts.
I arrived home at 4:30, and Pip, bless her was ready. We drove to the pharmacy, I went inside and stood in line. The pharmacy tech looked over the prescriptions I handed her and said, “Uh, this pain medication doesn’t exist in this dose, can you call your doctor back?” No I couldn’t call my doctor back, he was two hours away and wasn’t supposed to be in today anyway. “Well, all I can do is call and leave a message for him to return my call.” I looked at the clock, 4:55. My heart sank. I was absolutely ready to say my Good-byes and shoot myself in the face. I didn’t have any words. “I’ll do what I can she said.” I thanked her and rejoined Pip in the car. I was trying so hard not to cry outright. I hurt sooooo bad and had for two weeks without and respite. Piper looked at me for instructions. “Apparently the pain medication I need so bad doesn’t exist in the formula the doctor prescribed.” I wiped at a tear, she squeezed my hand. “What about the other two,” she asked. I told her they’d be fine then asked her to take me to the grocery, I needed a ginger ale to settle my tummy and wanted to take my medications immediately as soon as I got them.
Into the grocery and out I came with ginger ale and chicken broth. Pip pulled us back into traffic and headed back to the pharmacy, I reached for my bottle of pop, twisted the cap and pppppffhhhhuuunnfff!!!!!!!!! It exploded!!! That freakin sonuvabitch exploded!!! Not a drippy down the side little spurt, but an all-out blast of Hail Mary proportions!! Pop was dripping off the ceiling, fizzeling down the dashboard, the windows, the door, pooling in my lap and dripping off my hair, chin and hands. That was IT!! That was the last freakin straw!! No more fighting tears, they came. And they came, and they came!!! Shoulders shaking, eyes dripping - sobbing. Piper was silent, eyes on the road.
There were no towels in the car, no napkins. Just a sticky, drippy, drooling crying mess. We pulled into the parking lot of the pharmacy, she suggested the drive through, I said I wanted to talk with the pharmacist about the pain med. Pip didn’t argue. I sloshed my way back into the store, back in line, praying there would be good news about the medication.
You know it’s kind of funny now that I think of it. Obviously I was having one of the worst moments of one of the worst two weeks of my life. By the wild and crazed look in my eyes anyone could tell I was in extreme pain. And also just by looking at me you could tell I’d recently been doused against my will by some sort of mishap with a liquid substance. It was, after all, still dripping from my hair and the front of my clothes were visibly soaked. And yet, only one person addressed their curiosity or my discomfort. Everyone, with the exception of one man, just smiled, ignoring the obvious and was pretending like it was any nice ol’ day in the WalGreen’s Pharmacy. I hurt too bad to sit down, and I hurt too bad to stand still. I was pacing, with one hand holding the side of my face. One gentleman kept looking over his shoulder at me. I finally stopped avoiding eye contact with him and met his gaze dead on. He shrugged his shoulders, “Duuuude,” he said shaking his head from side to side, taking in the whole disastrous scene that was me. “Duude, you got a tooth ache?”
“That was last week,” I managed to get out, “now it’s an infection.” Tsk, tsk, he’s shaking his head again, “Mannnn, that’s the worst, you look like you’re having a rough day!” I nodded, yeah rough friggin day. The tech called me over, she’d been able to get ahold of the doctor, all was well and would I please sign here for my medications. Gladly! Scribble, scribble, scratch, scratch and out the door I went. The one man who had talked to me called after me as I was heading out, “I hope you get better soon!” My face hurt too bad to smile, but my heart smiled a Thank You anyway.
In the car, I opened those bottles, took one of each and held my breath till we got home. Piper helped me timeout my medication schedule, I stripped down naked and flopped into bed – yep without even showering. The way things had been going for me, who knew what might befall me if I tried to shower first, nope just straight to bed. Within minutes, I felt that new medication start to kick in. Relief for the first time in nineteen days. Then I slept for three days. Truly, I slept, waking only for a snack to go with medications, then back to sleep again for three days and all the nights in between.
And that is how my year has ended. No time for reflection, no time for analyzing, no time for dreaming or making plans. Christmas was shot to Hell. Hell, December was shot to hell. I lost a whole month! And I missed the 49ers/Cardinals game yesterday! I feel robbed!
