Taste and see

In April of 07, I had my jaw broken in four places and jiggled around a bit by (qualified professionals, of course). I had been suffering from an intense nawing pain in my face for a few years, and a year previous was told by an orthodontist that I had a 12% effective 'bite' due to seriously mismatched jaws. As a result, the muscles were being overworked to compensate for my sucky jaws and so I basically had a constant migraine in my face. Fun times. So after wearing braces for a year to straighten my teeth (a necessary evil, as no one will do any kind of jaw surgery without the patient having perfectly aligned teeth, that's how the money gets made as the jaw sugery itself is covered by MSI), I was admitted to Dartmouth General hospital the morning of April 13th (also a Friday).

The surgery goes well and I wake up in the recovery room demanding more morphine because it's freaking painful, like nothing I have ever experienced before. EVER. Finally a nurse got snippy with me and told me that I wouldn't be falling asleep if it really hurt so much that I was demanding more drugs every ten minutes. Fortunately for her I couldn't speak, or I would have of course told her to go screw a monkey, but leave the drugs with me, thanks.

The pain is brutal for the first couple hours, despite the ice packs draped over my face. And no more morphine - just some tylenol 3 laced with codine, which isn't exactly doing the trick. And I am not that fun to be around. I think by this time I have snapped at my mother and told both my parents to get out of my room (morphine makes you angry, apparently). i've also had more nosebleeds in the last few hours than I've had throughout my entire childhood, and I was raised with four boys, remember, so I have had my fair share. I guess it's just another side effect of the procedure, and not a pleasant one either. but then there was absolutely nothing pleasant about the experience so? makes sense.

Eventually I am able to get a bit of liquid down, though, and have to use the bathroom. The nurse, this little tanned thing from newfoundland, has been in to explain what to do - under no circumstances am i to flush the toilet. i have to fill this bowl with my pee so someone can come collect it and analyze it, for what i am too sore to ask. Also, there is this long cord thingy that I am to pull if I need help, and I'm thinking "I might have just had my jaw broken, but I'm pretty sure I can manage to take a leak on my own", but I humour her and nod my head because she looks young and stupid and not sure that she's even explaining things right. She's a newfie, remember. I go back to bed until the urge to pee, along with the incessant throbbing in my face, wakes me up.

Painfully, mumbling a string of swear words along the way, i make my way to the bathroom, dragging the IV behind me because I am still attached to the thing. No one is in the room to witness the profanity but, even if there had been, they wouldn't have been able to understand me anyways. And it's not like anyone can read my lips either, considering how they are swollen to about three times their normal size, matching the rest of my face perfectly.

Peeing is, I soon realize, not going to be as easy as I thought. For one thing - my left hand is completely useless, since it's attached to the IV and I can hardly move it. Then there's the johnny shirt that is really fucking this whole thing up. I'm trying to pull it away from my ass long enough so that I can actually sit down, while pulling my underwear down at the same time. After a few times, I finally manage. I reach for the toilet paper and do what every woman does after she urinates, then I remember I can't put the tissue in the bowl, but where's the fucking garbage? I stand up, and at that second my nose starts to bleed. It's POURING blood as I try to pull up my underwear, still holding the tissue because the fucking garbage is on the other side of the fucking room, only when I reach down to try and cover my bare ass, my nose just bleeds more. So there I stand, underwear at my knees, nose bleeding, still holding the fucking tissue with my piss all over it.

Then I see the cord.

And I remember what the little Newfie Nurse said to do if I got into trouble.

Pretty sure this counts.

So I pull it.

Seconds pass, and in comes the Newfie Nurse. By this time I have managed to wobble to the middle of the bathroom, blood all down my face and shirt, one hand practically behind me as I try and pull the IV across the threshold that separates the little toilet stall from the the rest of the bathroom, one hand still holding the god damned tissue.

Quickly, the Newfie Nurse assesses the situation. I wait for her to grab a face cloth or paper towel, only she doesn't.

Too late, I realize her plan.

She grabs. the tissue. out of my hand. and COVERS MY NOSE WITH IT.

The same tissue i just used, a few minutes ago, to wipe my own piss.

I am spitting and trying to yank my nose away from her grabbly little hands, but she thinks it's because I am just being difficult.

All I am thinking is "I need to stop tasting my own piss. RIGHT NOW!!"

Finally, I break free. She can't understand a word I say so she leads me back to my bed, completely oblivious of the trauma she's just inflicted upon me.

Taste and see, people. Taste. and. see.