Lunatics and Princesses

Read a thing about Harry Potter ending. Cried.
Watched Atlantis touch down on earth for the last time. Cried.
Read the farewell email from the Borders CEO. Cried.

(No seriously, where the hell am I supposed to go for bookage? Barnes and Noble is great, but Borders was convenient and had a better cafe, along with smaller stores in malls that are not giant- *coughOakdalecough*)

Looked in vain for a green formal gown that's been hanging in my closet for six years or so that has mysteriously disappeared. (It's only disappeared because I NEED IT OMG. I swear I have an imp that lives on my head that takes my shit, just when I need it, and only to fuck with me. Medieval Studies may have destroyed my faith in Jesus, but not in imps.)

Wound up having breathing problems on top of heatstroke yesterday- which was weird and scary, because my lungs are (with one exception several years ago, bronchitis or something) very healthy. So, headache + nausea + faintness + breathing = unhappy Feather. Just one more thing to add to the list of why I have to be careful in heat, I guess.

In other news, I'm going to try dyeing a wig with sharpie today. I'm a little apprehensive about it. This is, of course, after I finish draping my dress, sewing the front panel, and adding the beadwork.

At some point I have to get to Bing to exchange slides with BA, but I don't want to go because the car doesn't have air conditioning and it's going to get hot again.

Blah.

/bitchfest
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Well, it's over. Three wisdom teeth have been yanked out of my skull and two bone cysts have been drilled away, or something. I've been in the most pain I've ever been in in my entire life. I've eaten two cups of pudding and some ice cream. I've had weird pain-med induced dreams. But hey, that's the price you pay for the light at the end of the tunnel.

The dentist's office started out amusing. I got heart monitor clippy-things on my left ankle and right wrist, a finger oxygen-measurer, and a blood pressure cuff on my right arm. The nurse put an IV in my left hand which didn't hurt at all, really. I was watching the blood run down through the tube and was about to let the nurse know that she was going to have to clean up the floor in a few seconds when she attached the end to this tube of white stuff. "I'm going to inject a little bit of this," she said. "It might feel like you've had a few beers."

Then it was like whoa, insta-drunk! I have got to get me some of this shit for parties. All of the drunk and none of the sticky alcohol taste. That was the first and last time yesterday was good for me.

The doctor came in, and everyone shook hands, and I waved at my dad, and the nurse depressed the plunger the rest of the way. It made my whole hand start to ache, and it just got worse and traveled up my arm. The nurse strapped my arm to the chair and the last thing I remember is her telling me that it's okay, it hurts like that sometimes and there wasn't anything she could do about it.

I woke up screaming. The nurse was trying to get me to stop, and for some reason I thought she was Alisha. I kept trying to ask to blow my nose but I couldn't cause I was crying too hard. I think I might have pissed her off a little bit since I guess I kind of made a huge fuss. But daaaaaamn. No one ever told me it would hurt that much when I came to. She gave me a pain pill after three tries (and three consecutive spills of water down the front of my shirt) and somehow got me into a little (hopefully soundproofed) recovery room. I dimly remember that I kept kicking off my shoes and I couldn't get warm. They called my dad in and he wound up calming me down. Then they wrapped my head in a giant ice pack (which has since become my security blanket) and covered me with a blanket. Fifteen minutes later, I was wobbling out to the car. Half an hour after that, I was crying myself to sleep in my bed.

Everyone's been really nice to me. They get me jello and my mom read a couple of chapters from some chick-lit werewolf book to me. I'm doing better, but that's because I'm on ten tons of pain meds. Whee! And I've got my trusty ice pack. So far, it hasn't really made the golfball-sized lump on my jaw go away, but what the hell.

I can't really eat anything. The few times I've tried solid food have resulted in nausea. I also can't really stand or sit for long periods of time without getting shaky and sick. It's taken me all fucking day to write this damn entry.

Meanwhile, back at the farm...

Kelsey comes in before and says that the neighbors are stealing the rocks out of Mom's rock garden. WTF? says I.

I tell Dad when he gets home, and of course, there's the normal blowup, with Neighbor P accusing my dad of scalding his wife, Neighbor D, while she's in the shower or something. Dad gets frustrated and goes to bed since he's rockin' a severe headache/allergy attack. NP decides that he was a dumbass and comes over to apologize to Dad and tell him that he'll move the rocks back. Mom, not wanting to tell NP that Dad was in bed, tells him that he's sitting with me in my room. She elaborates on how horrible it was, and how much pain I'm in, and how rattled Dad is about it (all true. Except that Dad was asleep, and not sitting with me right then.)

Then NP asks how bad it is, and if I'm going to make it through okay. Then Mom quietly tells him that she didn't know, we're waiting for the biopsy results to come back, and that we're all hoping for the best. Poor NP bursts into tears, saying, "She's only twenty three... Oh, god, it's too young..."

Mom comes upstairs and tells me this. I kind of laugh, because it's ridiculous, but it turns out they are sending my cysts out for a biopsy. Makes you kind of nervous, especially since when I went for the consult I only had one and when I went for the surgery, I apparently had two. Hopefully it's just something wisdom-tooth related and that's the last I'll have to deal with it. My parents are worried about it, but I guess that's their job. My job is just to sit around with a monster ice pack and drink lots of juice and be pleastantly looped out on my medicine.

Still have to argue with them about going back to the apartment tomorrow and going to work on Monday. They are vehemently against it. I am vehemently against failing, and watercolor has been piling up like no fucking tomorrow. Next week is the last week of school, which means I have to have everything done by Wednesday. Yikes!

Okay. Enough typing for now. I'm going to go pass out.

This song totally owns my soul. It's awesome to pass out too. I know because I've done it three times so far today. Thank god for Christie and her loans of random iPod mixes.

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