Even though I had a big bad dental day yesterday, I woke up this morning feeling all better. I'll take Tylenol preventatively, but I bet I forget to take more at noon.
Apparently, on the way home, while I was still heavily medicated ("conscious sedation" is the term they use), my husband read my post-operative instructions to me. They included "keep talking to a minimum for 48 hours." I asked him to start video on his cam phone, and flipped him off. I can only assume that meant, "Fuck you, instructions, I'm talking anyway." I'll post the video if I figure out how to make that happen - it's amusing.
But in all seriousness, ignoring medical advice is not generally my thing, but since these instructions cover all kinds of oral surgeries, including extractions and wisdom teeth, and I had something put in my mouth, not taken out (mmmm just the way I like it), I think I'll stick with my consciously sedated assessment of that restriction, and carry on business as usual today.
Galiana Chance, authoring extraordinarily long run-on sentences for over 20 years. Also not a great tagline.
No comments:
Post a Comment