I’m alive.

Sort of.

It turns out that only two of my four teeth could be removed. The bottom tooth was so heavily impacted that it took them a while to “break” it out since I have “incredibly dense bone”. That’s good news for me. That means all the Dr. Pepper I drink is going to have difficulty leaching the calcium out of my body and I figure I’ve got another ten years of wanton soda consumption before osteoporosis becomes an irreversible fact.

The top tooth exposed my sinus(es), so they had to seal it not once, but twice. By the time all the trauma and drama was done, I had been under for almost three hours, and they decided (thank the LORD) to only go for two. Had they gone for four, I would probably have died already.

Since I’m an old geezer (mid 30′s), I was told not to expect a recovery like a teenager or a college student, since my ancient jaw had already ossified beyond all reason. They were right. Today is Day Four of Hell Week (caps intended), and this is the only day where I felt like I could actually get along without a little pick-me-up from hydrocodone.

My co-workers are amused at my already fat face being swollen out of proportion (the inspriation for the picture at the left), but they are more amused by the interesting conclusions I’ve been drawing while looped out on painkillers. Being a chemist does not mix well with post-op recovery, but I’ve stayed (mostly) out of the laboratory and limited my activities to analysis and summary.

In the meantime, I hope you were entertained with Kate’s podcast. That is the start of my next project–a novel set in a post-apocalyptic future run amok with religious fanatics, old-West sensibility, and limited future tech. If you have a second, drop a little bit of feedback into the comments section. I’m interested in thoughts/criticisms even at this early stage of the project.