The oral surgeon got the remaining parts of the tooth with only the usual amount of pressure, disturbing sounds, abrupt jars when the pliers slipped and the occasional worrisome muttering and requests for even more obscure tools -- "H'mm, I'll need the Number 12 Snivvy forceps, no, make that the Number five... And a pitching wedge...."
Now it's bleeding and bleeding. The Novacaine is wearing off and... And I'm an idiot. I took a couple of pain pills right before I left and because I didn't want to eat anything, I took Tylenol. Go now and loop up Norco or Percoset, drugs I happen to have been prescribed in the past and have on the shelf. (They wrote me some more Norco today, just in case.) Yes, they consist of a narcotic pain reliever and (drum roll please) Acetaminophen. Paracetamol. In a word, Tylenol. In a word, dammit. I can't take one until about, let's see, carry the t, divide by e to the x, h'mm, 11 or 11:30 a.m..
Maybe I'll have some pudding and a frickin' Ibuprofen. Because that's way more convenient than taking a couple and eating a cookie would have been, around about 7:20 this morning when I wasn't having to hold a roll of gauze over a bleeding hole in my gums. Also I just misspelled seven owrds in the prgious tw sentences, much as you see in this one. Oh, I'm Just Fine. Fine. No pain. Well, some pain. But no gain and I'm out $23, even, for the non-covered part of the extraction.
T. R. MCELROY'S STREAMLINED TELEGRAPH KEYS
1 year ago