The day before yesterday, the toothache came back with a vengence, and I was strung out on Percocet, Vicodin, and swigging of whiskey - Well, needless to say, the pain didn't really go away, but my brain was adequately fucked. But not enough to launch me into a slumber. Everytime I laid down, the pain came rushing back from my love tool to my face, and my tooth would scream. Seriously, if one was really quiet, one could hear the quiet squeal of my tooth.
So I got propped up and popped in Eddie Izzard's "Glourious", and proceeded to do the head bop sleep. After an hour of impacting my necks muscles, I got into bed and crashed, despite the pain. It was like 4 in the morning.
At ten, my wife woke me up and told me to call the dentist, in case they had an opening. They did, and it was at 11, so I had to drag my half-asleep butt out of bed to look somewhat presentable. I was reluctant to move because I was tired, but also because the pain actually subsided a bit.
At the dentist, I was on nitrous oxide and they decided to to fill the cavity in my lower right, which I think was the original problem - before all the wisdom tooth crap. But you know, laying there, half awake and drowsy, looking up to a bright light and the shadows of two masked people with metal tools hanging out of your mouth, I wonder why I don't go more often.
I went home, and went to bed, sleeping till 3 in the afternoon. I was up for a couple hours, and then spent about an hour on the couch, waking up occasionally to tell the kids to cease beatings, and then went back to sleep. My mom finally told me to go back upstairs to rest, which I did. Woke up around 9, thinking that the kids were already in bed, but they were just brushing their teeth. So at least I got to put them to bed, which was kinda nice.
But then I just spaced for a couple more hours before sleeping again.
And today I've got a dull headache, probably my brain being surprised that I wasn't comatose after all.
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