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breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

I live!

Wasn't all that bad. Definitely the most skillful application of Novocaine I've ever had--didn't feel anything, and I live in Fear of the Giant Needle. And he had to give me a LOT of Novocaine, too--my tooth proved rather sensitive, comin' down off that big hurting episode, so we paused halfway through, when I felt a faint twinge, and he loaded me up with the stuff again.

On the bright side, no bad jabbing OHMYGODTHENERVE! jolts (a few minor ones, but nothing bad).

On the downside, I can't feel my ear.

This dentist does not believe in heavy drugs, and is hoping I'll get through it on ibuprofen, but I can either badger him on his cel phone, or (more likely) break into my stash of 750mg Vicodin from the LAST root canal (and a dentist who believed in drugs, more drugs, lots of drugs.)

So s'all good. I'll be pretty much useless for painting for the next two days--I've already made the apologies and updated timelines on my current time sensitive commissions--but I can still write, and I have much of the text for the art book to write, so I'll probably make some inroads on that. It's weird that I can write fine when baked and in pain, but I can't paint very well. Probably different parts of the brain or something, but whatever mental pathways are required for painting get a big muzzy gray roadblock smacked over them when I'm opiated. (Which makes no sense, when you think of Xanadu and Coleridge, but then again, he didn't have to paint it...)

breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

I live!

Wasn’t all that bad. Definitely the most skillful application of Novocaine I’ve ever had–didn’t feel anything, and I live in Fear of the Giant Needle. And he had to give me a LOT of Novocaine, too–my tooth proved rather sensitive, comin’ down off that big hurting episode, so we paused halfway through, when I felt a faint twinge, and he loaded me up with the stuff again.

On the bright side, no bad jabbing OHMYGODTHENERVE! jolts (a few minor ones, but nothing bad).

On the downside, I can’t feel my ear.

This dentist does not believe in heavy drugs, and is hoping I’ll get through it on ibuprofen, but I can either badger him on his cel phone, or (more likely) break into my stash of 750mg Vicodin from the LAST root canal (and a dentist who believed in drugs, more drugs, lots of drugs.)

So s’all good. I’ll be pretty much useless for painting for the next two days–I’ve already made the apologies and updated timelines on my current time sensitive commissions–but I can still write, and I have much of the text for the art book to write, so I’ll probably make some inroads on that. It’s weird that I can write fine when baked and in pain, but I can’t paint very well. Probably different parts of the brain or something, but whatever mental pathways are required for painting get a big muzzy gray roadblock smacked over them when I’m opiated. (Which makes no sense, when you think of Xanadu and Coleridge, but then again, he didn’t have to paint it…)

Originally published at Tea with the Squash God. You can comment here or there.