Mah teef hurp.

SPOILER: some gross medical-y stuff ahead. Teeth, blood, needles, gross bits.

The weirdest thing about taking Tylenol 3 is when you stop taking it for a bit, then start again. You never realise the fog you were in until you’re out and your mouth hurts and you have to swallow everything whole so all you’re eating is noodle soup and jell-o and you’re deathly paranoid about getting food stuck in the space where your teeth used to be and your mouth still isn’t closing properly and EVERYTHING IS GROSS.


I had a blood test today (because what with all the massive amounts of cavities, plus my recent extreme and consistent thirst, and a ten year history of hypoglycemic shakes, in addition to a family history of diabeetus, we thought it was prudent to check), so I fasted and didn’t take any pills till I could see a doctor. Thankfully I was able to see one by 2 pm today, so the fasting was over quickly and I returned to my drug induced stupor shortly thereafter. My haemotologist was amazing, though. She sat me down, no nonsense, I looked away, I thought I felt the needle pinch, then about 30 seconds later she was removing the tournequet and throwing away the needly bits and there were two full vials of blood on the table. Well done, ma’am!

I responded in disbelief, exhaling a “wow!” as I stood up to grab my jacket. “You’re good!” I grinned, as the hunger and faintness began to kick in.

“And you have lovely teeth!” she responded. “You say something nice to me, I say something nice to you.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that my “lovely” teeth were the very reason I was in her clinic today.

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