The Dentist

Monday is dentist day.  I think this is the 8th dentist we have tried since we have been married.  They have all been too far, made stuff up about our teeth to do work we don't need, too expensive or just plain strange.  However, one of the dentists did give me some Percocet once.  That was an atypical, bizarre day.

I had a crown that had become impacted and full of puss.  (Hope you are not eating right now.)  The dentist drained it but he did not have time during the emergency appointment to fix it.  He instead prescribed some very fulfilling Percocet to keep me company.

I went to work the next day at the office and things went well until lunch time.  After lunch, my tooth ached like it had been hit by a miniature exploding bullet.  My head began to involuntarily twitch with every sprinkle of titanic burst of pain that radiated through my gums.

I pulled the Percocet out of my drawer.  This situation called for a "double dose".  After all, when I had incredible headaches, I had always taken 3 aspirins instead of two.  Two Percocets seemed to be just what the imaginary doctor in my brain called for.  

For lunch, I had a lovely array of Wendy's french fries, a "double" burger and Coke.  I followed this up with a Hostess Cherry Pie.  Okay, I am a bit ashamed of the way that I was eating at this point of my life.  I blame it on working in an office, where people eat crap all day long.  

As I sat at my desk and digested the Percocet, I noticed that I could not keep my eyes on the computer screen.  The screen kept moving on me, like someone was pushing it to the side.  Every time I would fixate my eyes on the screen, some invisible clown would push it one foot to the left.  Soon, the computer was floating in the air and circling me, mocking me.  

My amusement toward my floating computer was soon replaced by the large, black pit that started to form in my stomach.  The Percocet did not like Wendy's the same way I had.  I needed to get to the restroom and fast.  

I think I made it two steps and then I puked all over the office floor.  As I had just eaten a cherry pie, I was under the impressing that I was puking up blood.  Being in the overdosed condition that I was in, I lay on the ground, panicking and flailing my arms.  I don't remember much else.

My boss called my wife to come and get me.  They took me down and laid me on the grass to wait.  Apparently, they didn't want me to puke in the office again.  

Cathi came and got me.  I would have been extremely embarrassed but I was so out of it, I really didn't care about anything.  Just another reason I could never work in an office again.

Ahh, sweet, sweet Percocet.