Sunday, January 13, 2008

Mowth Displacement!

Well, here it is. The eve before Monday. And what shall I discuss? The options are many, but ultimately, "there can be only one." Yah right.

My mouth is still enduring some serious gak-age from early last week when I had my wisdom teeth ripped out with a forklift. Since then I have been treated to, I mean with, 1000 mg. of Hydrocodone, aka Vicodin, every four hours, which is what serious yuppie-junkies use to find their inner-buddha.

Life has been somewhat tough. No real food except yogurt and milk shakes. I call it the Nick-Diet, since I think I've been losing weight. Move over Jenny Craig. Your end has come!

My lower teeth were pretty impacted, so the healing process is slow, relatively speaking. My whole chin is numb with disbelief and pain. Feeling in my lower lip seems to be returning, but I can't really tell. I was warned beforehand that it could be numb for life, since the lower-teeth were so close to the main nerve. Yikes. It could also effect my flute-playing, but I pray it doesn't, not that I've been playing all that much of late.

Actually, life feels a lot better with no wisdom teeth. I kinda wonder sometimes if when they pulled the teeth out they took some of my hard-earned wisdom as well, because I just don't feel as wise. I really don't. I feel silly. Actually, it's probably just the drugs.


On a more serious note, Clare and I are still here in po-dunk, confederate-flag-in-my-old-Ford-pick-up Stafford. We have decided to move to Chicago indefinitely. We will move sometime in the next few months, though we're not sure when. And then it's Sanfratello's, here we come!

Juice-out Juice bags.



The Scientist said...

Can you play any Tull on that flute?

Nick-dog said...

Tull is my inspiration, scientist.


Bridget said...

Oh man. That sucks. The moving part AND the tooth removal via fork-lift. But hey, you gotta do what's right for your family. Just make sure you don't high tail it outta here without one last dinner with us!

Nick-dog said...

Of course not, Bridget! When are we eating?