I had my surgery yesterday, and came out really mad at the world. I was not one of those happy drugged people who talk loudly and make inappropriate comments, like I was worried I would be. Oh no, I emerged with a scowl on my face and wanted every nurse who kept saying my name to just stop looking at me in the recovery room. I’m apparently a very paranoid person when on drugs. I couldn’t tell if my mouth was stuffed with gauze or if it was just that swollen. It really bothered me to not be able to feel anything in my mouth, especially my bottom lip. So I kept covering up my head with my blanket in the recovery room, and the nurses had to tell me several times to uncover my head. They wouldn’t let anyone sit with you in this recovery room – which is the first time I’ve ever encountered that. I don’t think I would have been as angry if I had known someone in there.
Before wheeling me out to the car, a nurse gave me a pink shirt with a Hawaiian-y design and the clinic’s name on it. With a mouth full of gauze and as much sarcasm as I could muster (which was considerable), I asked, "What is this? A memento?" Those poor nurses. Now I feel really bad for how cranky I was to them.
It was a good thing they gave me that shirt, because I changed into it on the way home after trying to drink some Sprite and spilling it all over the front of my shirt. I really thought I was doing okay, but not being able to feel your bottom lip is more of a detriment to consumption than I would have thought. And I was cranky enough that being wet just made me that much more unbearable.
I slept some on the way home and woke up with blood all over the side of my face. Very gross.
My mouth hurts worse today, but luckily hydrocodone is my friend. Also, Mom promptly made me scrambled eggs, mashed potatoes and pudding. I bought three tubs of ice cream earlier this week, and surprisingly haven’t eaten any yet. Right now she’s making her homemade noodles, minus the chicken.

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