Thursday December 3rd, 2009

The exercise:

This year for my sister Sue's birthday, I got my wisdom teeth out. I hope she likes it, I went through a lot to get it done.

Happy birthday Sue!

Today's writing prompt: pain tolerance.


It's probably too early to tell one way or another, but the pain seems manageable. Tylenol 3, oddly enough, appear to be out of the equation already - I got really nauseous after taking just one with lunch. I say 'oddly enough' because back when I got migraines all the time, T3s were my salvation. I guess I've outgrown them?

Anyway, the nurse said to try ibuprofen instead so I just downed some of those. We'll see how they do.

I've always had a pretty high tolerance for pain. When I was in grade 8 I broke my left wrist and didn't go get it x-rayed until a day or two later. I just got someone in the principal's office to bandage it up because I thought it was just sprained. They x-ray said otherwise, obviously.

Needless to say, being a guy, I'm quite proud of that.

So, right now? I'm rather uncomfortable but it's nothing too bad. I think the ibuprofen is starting to kick in as well. And I should probably get the ice back on my cheeks. So... catch you later.


Greg said...

Oh, there's just a hint of weirdness about your posts today, but mostly in a good way! Ibuprofen doesn't really make people weird though, so maybe that's part of it.

Glad the teeth are all out and you're seeming cheerful; keep using that ice and keeping the swelling down!

And yes, your threshhold for pain does seem high and is definitely something to be proud of. I shall come to Vancouver and beat you up a little so you can show me in person how tough you are :)

Pain tolerance

I lift my head and look around; where is Red? Where have they taken him? He's nowhere in sight, and my wrists ache already from supporting my weight. I hate being chained up, more because I know the pain is getting to me in slow, subtle ways. When Wilkerson's man came back in and asked me for my name I told him I was called Alice. He nodded, solemn as a pauper at a funeral, and went away, only to come back moments later looking angry.
"Alice what?" he demanded, his voice rasping like a file on metal.
"Alice... Alice in..." I rattled my chains weakly, trying to hide my real state. He hit me then, and when I spat at him he hit me again. Clearly his mother didn't bring him up not to hit girls.
Where is Red? God's dammit, I know he won't have my pain tolerance and, quite frankly, I want someone to talk to who won't hit me over one lousy pun.

Marc said...

Oh all the ways I thought I could draw you to Vancouver... that was not one of them :P

Ah, Tagged. That'll get back on track eventually. Hopefully without the scene you just wrote.

It, sadly, took me a moment to get the pun. I was thinking 'Wonderland' at first. But I got it eventually.

I'm blaming the drugs again, fyi.