The Tooth, the Whole Tooth, Nothing but the Tooth

I’ve been training the new girl here at work. She’s young, quite young, very cute, nervous and very nice. I like her. I think she’ll fit in well here.

My problem? Ack! So busy. So so so busy. So much to do here at work, so much to do besides work and my tooth feels like its going to fall out of my head, or I at least wish it would. John told me yesterday that he would buy me my soup bowl from Quizno’s because I was “sick”. “I AM NOT SICK” I demanded, “MY TOOTH JUST HURTS”. Mouth pain is the worst, cause it just doesn’t go away, no matter what you do.

Now, no one would be surprised to hear that I have an addictive personality. I’m pretty much addicted to all tame and not so tame things you can be addicted to with the exception of coffee (keep in mind I am not talking about things like crack or heroin kay?). HOWEVER, there are one or two things that I am so paranoid of, that I know in my heart I will never crave. But one of those things, is prescription medication.

Last night, as I sat as still as possible so as not to inflame my already angry mouth, I had dreams of the vicodin that sat waiting for me in my bathroom. I got them when I had my tooth pulled a few months ago, took one, fell asleep and never took another.

But I just couldn’t do it last night. Even in the pain I was in, there was no part of me that wanted to get up, and get the vicodin. What if it clashed with the penicillin I was taking? What if I was dehydrated and the vicodin caused me to have some sort of blackout? What if this was the one time someone should have told me “You know, don’t take vicodin when you have a root canal cause…well, just cause”.

So I didn’t. Didn’t take one and chomped on ibuprofen for most of the evening.

And tacos.

And chocolate chip cookies.

Yum. Cookies.