Monty Python’s “Medical Love Song”

While I won’t waste your time writing out the lyrics to this epic love ballad here, I will  post a link if you feel like wasting time later (and that way you can’t blame me because I clearly gave you a choice):

http://www.metrolyrics.com/medical-love-song-lyrics-monty-python.html

This (without all the VD) is what my body is singing to me right this very minute. It’s very romantic. (Except again, I will repeat for emphasis, without all the VD.) (Or penises.)

So we’ve already gone over my dental trauma. Wisdom teeth, 30 kajillion cavities, and now they’ve gone and only filled the ones on the left side so the molars are too big and keep giving me a headache. Plus, my blood test for diabetes came back negative, so I have no idea what caused me to go from 0-30 in a year and a half.

But enough about gross things like teeth and mouths.

Yesterday, for no reason whatsoever, my left foot just up and stopped working. Well, it stopped wanting me to be able to work it. So it stabbed me in the fascia and now I can’t bear weight. I had two shifts today at two different restaurants with a 10-minute walk between them that turned into an 18-minute hobble. I am 22 years old. Why is my body treating me like a 90-year-old??

So, in conclusion, best Valentine’s day ever? I think so. Pardon me, I’m going to go sleep until Family Day.

 

 

(and as a post script, shouldn’t Valentine’s day be, oh, about 9 months before Family Day, instead of six days?)

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.

Sorry.

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.

Two things.

First: THIS.

Second: Been drugged all day. I guess that’s what happens when you have 2 wisdom teeth removed – teeth that, for your whole life, you were told did not exist. Teeth that nobody believed you had, even when you were 22 and one started poking through the gums. Teeth that are not a bone spur or calcification, thank you Dr. MomGoogle.

Also 9 cavities filled and 21 more to go. I s#it you not.