Friday, July 5, 2013

After The Feast

I had my wisdom tooth out a few days ago. It was a pre-emptive strike, brought on by a secondary school friend's impacted horror that culminated in a nasty root canal. After he told us in gruesome detail about it, everyone ran to their dentists and arranged for their own wisdom tooth extractions. Peer pressure is a powerful force, even at the age of 29.

Before my surgery, I was determined to indulge myself beyond all reason. I went out for tapas and sangria, I wore my new skinny black Theyskens' Theory jeans, I had foie gras for dessert and fried chicken as starters. I ate clams vongole and a wagyu beef burger with truffle fries (not on the same day). On the day my extraction was scheduled for, I polished off not one, but two McMuffins (sausage and egg, and chicken).

I thought perhaps I'd overdone things - really planted myself on the path to morbid obesity this time - but after the extraction I lost all desire to eat. It's been three days and I've been living off soup and Milo, mostly just so I can take my antibiotics. My extraction site doesn't bother me much, but everything either has no taste or (weirdly enough) is far too salty. I guess it's the famine after the feast.

The meds or the lack of calories have made me unusually sleepy and not interested in doing much beyond gazing slack-jawed at the television. Not that I've been able to follow much on the screen; somehow nothing captures my attention. Even the dog seems to think I'm no fun anymore. I don't talk much and I don't think much.

I wish I was still interested in life, in going out and seeing new things and making stuff. The irony is that this is the longest break from work I've had all year, and I'm spending it in hibernation, sleeping most of the time. It was too much of an effort to even chew tofu today.

I was all prepared for dry socket, excruciating pain, annoying stitches and non-stop bleeding - but I've suffered none of them, only this strange anhedonia which is really bumming me out. I've got all the time in the world, and absolutely no interest in the world itself. Time to head back to bed.

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