I survived....

So I survived having my wisdom teeth pulled out. Such a strange experience. They hooked me up to an IV and I was expecting them to ask me to count backwards from 100, like I've been told by so many people, but instead I just blacked out and woke up with what felt like a large slug in my mouth.

The slug turned out to be my tongue. My face was a complete numb mess. I couldn't even swallow. They gave me some Advil to help with the pain but the best I could do was swish it around my mouth. I didn't have enough muscle control to swallow it and I sheepishly just spit it back out.

I've come to the conclusion that coming out of general anesthesia is like having a really bad hangover. Your half cognizant, stumbling around and have no fine motor skills. And you sometimes feel like puking.

All day yesterday the pain would come and go and I was pretty doped up on Vicodin. I was having a hard time eating enough to buffer the painkillers so I was pretty loopy all day yesterday. I'm trying to get by without the Vicodin today because I'm getting tired of feeling sedated and half-conscious.

I think staying home and resting will be the toughest part for me. I'm so use to being out and about that all this inaction is really frustrating. Right now, I have a bike on a workstand just to be doing something. I've been trying to do some photoshop but I have a hard time concentrating.

Hope I feel better tommorrow.....

On Losing Consciousness..

Ok, so this is neither a bike or photo related post. I'm going to have my wisdom teeth (all four of them) yanked out of my mouth in about 10 hours. I think it's a sign that I've reached some kind of adulthood when I voluntarily ask someone to committ bloody violence to my mouth, then pay them afterwards.

The thought of what's going to happen to my teeth is a bit frightening, but what really is sticking in my head is the thought of being knocked out. I've never been put under and it seems like such a foreign concept to lose consciousness and wake up with the surgery being done. Of course, it probably doesn't help that I'm a sucker for movies where people go under and they wake up with missing kidney.

So where does the hour go? I guess I'll find out soon enough when I wake up with four less teeth.

Ouch!

I had my first spill on my fixie this morning. It happened unceremoniously while I was coming back from Seal Beach. I was just about to go over the small bridge to 2nd Street, standing on the pedals, when my right foot unclipped. In some instantaneous chain of events that I don't fully comprehend, I ended up "flying over the handlebars."

I always thought that "flying over the handlebars" was thrown around metaphorically or as a bit of playful imagery to spice up a story. Apparently, when people fly over the handlebars that is literally what happens.

I flew and landed on my left arm. Thankfully, nothing broken, just a little road rash, some sore muscles and a pair of out of true wheels.