magnificently uncommon

I had all four of my wisdom teeth ripped from my face on Friday. My original plan had been to find a ride (most likely with Lizconsin) to the oral surgeon and back and spend the weekend hiding out in my room. That way I wouldn't have to lug any of my stuff home (movies, laptop, clothes), I would have a capable support system on hand (Stephan, Liz, A15) and I'd be able to buy myself whatever accommodations I needed before hand (ice cream, soup) instead of relying on my parents for that.

However, (and there had to be a However) I was coerced by my mother to spend the weekend recovering at home. Home is where i receive as little sympathy as possible. Granted, this isn't a real serious surgery. This isn't life threatening or anything like that. But it fucking hurts. A lot. and my mom couldn't even splurge for a second bag of frozen peas to keep my face from swelling.

I've spent most of today fighting back tears because I'm tired, frustrated and in a lot of pain. I held off on my second to last hydrocodone (they only gave me 14, bastards) so I could drive Stephan to the train station.

Stephan, btw, is the greatest person ever. He spent his Saturday night and most of his Sunday lying in bed with puffy-faced me watching Man V. Food and other wonderful netflix goodies. He's my favorite.

But now, I'm stranded in Cherry Hill. I can't drive back to school on the meds (which are pretty shitty meds to begin with), and I'm still too sore and swollen to consider myself healed. And I've got a shit ton of stuff to do this week so it's not like I can take a day or two off. And I hate feeling this shitty in a house where I get shit for feeling shitty.

meh.