Today I had the singular pleasure of having a little oral surgery. Because, you see, you can’t have your knee replaced if you have dental problems. So today I had my “failed root canal” (who knew it was even an option for root canals to fail?) removed and the infection that had taken up residence underneath it treated (again, I have to point out). Fun times, let me tell you. Right now I’m feeling very much like I accidentally let someone punch me in the face. Repeatedly.
The last time I had some dental trouble, my dentist offered me a prescription for vicodin, and I refused it (because I am an idiot). This time, the dentist didn’t ask, he just gave me the prescription … and I immediately went to get it filled.
I went to the drug store closest to my house, one I don’t usually go to, one where I’ve never used the pharmacy. I went up to the counter and the woman took my prescriptions and my insurance card.
“What’s your date of birth?”
She looks up, smiling. “Really? I’m September 12th.”
I smile, too … as much as I can with drug-numbed lips and a wad of gauze in my mouth. And then I notice her name tag. “And you’re Tracey … and I’m Stacie. That’s perfect.” (Imagine me saying all of that but kind of muffle-y and mumble-y.)
“And I’m married to an S-t-a-c-e-y Stacey and his birthday’s September the 13th.”
“Okay, that’s just too weird.”
She laughs. “I like it.”
Yeah, I like it, too. How funny and entirely unlikely is that?
And that was funny, but much less funny was having to wait almost three hours to for my drugs to be ready! But I have them now. I’ve just taken a pill and I’m waiting for the Stacie’s-face-has-been-pummeled feeling to recede. In the mean time, I am going to sleep. I’m no good to anyone feeling like this. Here’s hoping the hydrocodon (generic for vicodin) get’s me through the worst of this!
Check out today’s drug-free slices at Two Writing Teachers.