My non-puking streak of six years has come to a sad and tragic end.  Last night at three a.m., I asked Rich for a painkiller and a glass of apple juice.  My blood sugar was low, low, low because I didn’t eat doodly-squat yesterday, and my mouth was killing me (we’ll get to that in a moment).  On the bottle of Vicodin, it clearly states to take with food or milk.  Apparently, while in my world apple juice is food, it is not so in the pharmaceutical world.  And I’m lactose intolerant, so milk was out of the question!  So for the next hour and twenty minutes, I had the cold sweats and prayed to the Puke Gods to let me go for the evening.  Oops, too late.  They had me.  At 4:18 a.m., I was talking to Ralph on the big white telephone, driving the porcelain bus, praying to the porcelain god, etc.  It was horrid.  All it did was remind me of why I could never be a good bulimic, why I don’t like to get rip-roaring drunk, and why I don’t like painkillers.  And there I was, thinking I was more than halfway to a decade without a barfing episode.  Damn.

Okay, the dentist appointment … I don’t remember much, thanks to the Halcion.  I do remember taking the second one at the office, but I don’t remember getting to the office.  I remember being very cold, and I remember Dr. K saying, “Okay, it’s out” in reference to my former tooth.  Oh, and I do remember asking for my gloves because my hands were freezing.  We got Smoothies on the way home and I have a little memory of eating mine (couldn’t drink it because you’re not allowed to use a straw after an extraction).  I don’t remember getting home or changing into jammies.  The next thing I remember clearly is waking up on the couch.  I emailed Duke, but I don’t know what I said, but from his reply, I know I asked about his ankle (he says it’s fine and not to worry) and I said something about painkillers (he said to enjoy them).  I don’t keep copies of sent mail, so the actual content shall remain a mystery.  Most of the rest of the day is foggy.  That’s a very bizarre feeling.

At some point last night, I decided it would be a good idea to take out my flipper (which is not like I thought it would be – it’s basically a retainer with a tooth and without a wire on the front of your teeth.  So I now talk like a twelve year old with a retainer.  This is doing nothing to help me as I already sounded like a five year old).  I took it out, felt the stitches (oh yes, I have stitches in my mouth, ack!), saw blood, rinsed, and lastly spit.  Then I got really upset (drugs) and went crying to Rich.  He was like, “You took it out?  You aren’t supposed to take it out.  Why’d you do that?”  Oh dear, yet another thing of which I have no memory.  I had no idea I wasn’t supposed to take it out.  I can today, but I was supposed to leave it alone for 24 hours.  I also wasn’t supposed to rinse or spit until today.  Oops, my bad.  It was all on the sheet they gave me.  The sheet I didn’t remember getting.  Great.  Luckily they told Rich everything I was supposed to do and not do, but when you’re allowed to go to the bathroom on your own, and you’re me and very curious, you’re going to fuck it all up.

Another thing I didn’t realize was that I wasn’t supposed to do anything for two days but rest because of the stitches.  I was all set to go skate this morning and was setting my alarm last night when Rich said that I couldn’t.  War ensued, and I lost due to puke.  It’s maybe a good thing because I felt like crapola this morning.  I did feel bad for cancelling on Duke though.  One question about that though – if I wasn’t supposed to do anything because of my stitches, then why are hockey players able to get stitched up and go right back out on the ice?  Hardly fair.  *grumble*

My mouth hurts like a mofo, but I’m not taking anymore Vicodin.  Those little shits ruined The Streak!  Plus, I’m going to have to workout like crazy tomorrow to make up for this.  Two days of doing nothing but sitting on my ass.  Not good!  I did go to Target today though.  I bought this jacket, which quite frankly looks better on me than it does on this poor girl, and this skirt.  Well, sort of that skirt.  Mine has grey dots on it, but they didn’t have that one online.  This one is the same cut though.  There is a cute shirt that goes with the skirt, but I didn’t get it.  To fit my boobs, I had to go up a size, and then it was huge everywhere else and looked all wrong.  Stupid big boobs.  I have shirts at home that I can wear with it though.  I really love the jacket – it’s too cold for it now, but soon it’ll be perfect!

My sister comes into town tomorrow for Anjelica’s baby shower!  My son and I are totally excited to see her and her baby bump.  He’s so excited about his cousin-to-be.  We were at Starbucks today, and he was calculating how old he would be when the baby was certain ages, and how old I would be as well.  Ick!

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