So, I have not written anything for this page for a while. Here is a breakdown of why. First, there were midterms . Third, there are finals. Oh, I forgot second. Second, my face was trying to rot off from the inside out. This brings me to the subject of this blog.
Dads and dads to be, take care of your health so you can take care of your loved ones. Let's hop in the wayback machine and go way back to however long ago it was that I stopped writing. In the middle of midterms, I lost my sense of taste. Shortly after, I lost my sense of smell. Oh wait, I better post a disclaimer here for the squeamish.
WARNING!!!!!! The following blog may contain gratuitous references to poop, pus, and other ooky things. There may even be some foul language. You have been warned. Okay, if you are offended by anything after this point, it is on you.
I figured out that my smeller was off when we were getting ready for bed. My wife went out of the room. I should mention I was very gassy at this point even though you would rather I didn't. I let out a tester and took a good whiff. Nothing smelled off so I let go. My wife came back, took one breath, and dropped to the floor dead. Imagine my confusion. I was unaware of the "silent and scentless but deadly" evolution of farts. But, after a moment I knew I was going to miss her.
Since she loves me so much and can't stand to be away from me ever, my wife returned to her body so she could continue to live at my side. She is silly like that. But, I still think she is awesome. She climbed on the bed and smashed my "scentless" theory to pieces. Side note, we had been to Miguel's for Mexican food earlier that evening. Back to the torture chamber. She made it very clear that fart was very scented and not in a votive candle sort of way.
Next, the rancid scent took over my sinuses (not the fart. This is a different scent). Everything smelled like the juice that gets left in the bottom of the garbage can when you take the bag out. Let me tell you, that was so much fun. If that wasn't bad enough, that smell translated into a taste that sat on the back of my tongue. Seeing that I was in pure misery (or is it Missouri?) the universe took pity on me and struck me with the worst case of diarrhea I have ever heard of.
Where we live is a little studio apartment. The bathroom for poopies is in the main house about 50 yards away. Every 20 to 30 minutes, I would get to make the trek to the bathroom as quickly as I could with cheeks clinched. Oh, I forgot to mention that I had a horrible fever and was weak as a baby while trying to do this. For three days I did this. There is nothing like waking up in the middle of the night just in time to hold back the Hiroshima sized blast that was about to redecorate my pants. I shouldn't mention this but it is a fun fact. If you have the squirts long enough, you will eventually start to shit bile. And now you know. And knowing is half the battle. The other half is overcoming the pain from the acid fire that shoots out of from betwixt your cheeks.
Once I started to recover, my wife and I set out to figure out what was going on. The symptoms did not quite match the flu. So, if you said it was the flu, you were wrong and we all hope you are not in the medical field. It wasn't until my wife smelled my breath that it clicked in her head. I had a rotten tooth. If you guessed a bad tooth, keep it to yourself. No one likes a show off.
I have to apologize to Hubigail at this point. I inherited bad teeth from my mother. My wife also inherited the same from someone on her side. Hubert, you teeth are going to be horrid. That is why your mother is going into the dental field. Sorry and you are welcome.
Back to the story. I looked into the depths of my mouth and saw the source of my woes. What was left of the tooth was broken at the gum line and black. How did I not know the tooth was broken? As I said, I inherited bad teeth. I did not inherit the money to take care of them properly. My tooth had been broken for some time. It didn't hurt so I didn't worry about it. The funny thing is that it still didn't hurt.
My wife, being her awesome self, made an appointment with La Clinica. If you have never heard of them or think you know all about them but have never had to go there, they are amazing. When we get millions of dollars, we will make a hefty donation. They rushed me in and examined my mouth. They were not too concerned after I told them there was no pain. The plan was to extract it and send me on my way after I took some meds for a few days.
They got me in a few days later to yank that sucker out. Dr. Casual numbed me up and set to work whistling a happy tune.
When it comes to the dentist, most people feel fear. I, on the other hand, go in with the knowledge that I am about to undergo serious pain (I also inherited an extra set of nerves in my gums that are not easily numbed) and suck it up. But, the one thing you don't want to ever experience is the feeling I got when the dentist stopped whistling and developed an expression of equal parts shock and panic. He then called for lots of suction.
Let's switch to my wife's perspective for this next part. She was sitting in the corner watching. According to her, my fears of him puncturing my sinus cavity (it was a tooth in my upper gums) were off, but not by much. When the dentist pulled my tooth out, pus began squirting everywhere. Apparently, he had not suspected the infection was that bad. After four hours of suctioning up pus (give or take 3 hours and 55 minutes) he breathed a sigh of relief. He then tuned to his table and retrieved the scissors (I don't know the technical term for flesh removing scissors). He set to work cutting dead tissue out of my tooth hole.
When all was said and done, la dentista packed my mouth with gauze and took a seat. He explained the infection was eating into the bones in my face and working its way into my sinuses. It was also seeping into my mouth and killing my taste buds. On top of that, my body was going into shock while fighting off the infection (thus the Captain Thunderpants marathon). He had never seen anything like it in both his years as a dentist (I don't actually know how long he was a dentist). With that, he gave me a bouncy ball and sent me on my way. I have plenty more dental work to be done but we have to wait until the money comes in.
So, the moral of the story, gentlemen, is to make sure you are healthy in all ways. Your family to be will not be happy without you there. They may not be too put out if your face rots off due to a tooth, but they would prefer you were not the elephant man. Moreover, you have a role to play in your family's future and you need to be there as best you can. The End.
Dads and dads to be, take care of your health so you can take care of your loved ones. Let's hop in the wayback machine and go way back to however long ago it was that I stopped writing. In the middle of midterms, I lost my sense of taste. Shortly after, I lost my sense of smell. Oh wait, I better post a disclaimer here for the squeamish.
WARNING!!!!!! The following blog may contain gratuitous references to poop, pus, and other ooky things. There may even be some foul language. You have been warned. Okay, if you are offended by anything after this point, it is on you.
I figured out that my smeller was off when we were getting ready for bed. My wife went out of the room. I should mention I was very gassy at this point even though you would rather I didn't. I let out a tester and took a good whiff. Nothing smelled off so I let go. My wife came back, took one breath, and dropped to the floor dead. Imagine my confusion. I was unaware of the "silent and scentless but deadly" evolution of farts. But, after a moment I knew I was going to miss her.
Since she loves me so much and can't stand to be away from me ever, my wife returned to her body so she could continue to live at my side. She is silly like that. But, I still think she is awesome. She climbed on the bed and smashed my "scentless" theory to pieces. Side note, we had been to Miguel's for Mexican food earlier that evening. Back to the torture chamber. She made it very clear that fart was very scented and not in a votive candle sort of way.
Next, the rancid scent took over my sinuses (not the fart. This is a different scent). Everything smelled like the juice that gets left in the bottom of the garbage can when you take the bag out. Let me tell you, that was so much fun. If that wasn't bad enough, that smell translated into a taste that sat on the back of my tongue. Seeing that I was in pure misery (or is it Missouri?) the universe took pity on me and struck me with the worst case of diarrhea I have ever heard of.
Where we live is a little studio apartment. The bathroom for poopies is in the main house about 50 yards away. Every 20 to 30 minutes, I would get to make the trek to the bathroom as quickly as I could with cheeks clinched. Oh, I forgot to mention that I had a horrible fever and was weak as a baby while trying to do this. For three days I did this. There is nothing like waking up in the middle of the night just in time to hold back the Hiroshima sized blast that was about to redecorate my pants. I shouldn't mention this but it is a fun fact. If you have the squirts long enough, you will eventually start to shit bile. And now you know. And knowing is half the battle. The other half is overcoming the pain from the acid fire that shoots out of from betwixt your cheeks.
Once I started to recover, my wife and I set out to figure out what was going on. The symptoms did not quite match the flu. So, if you said it was the flu, you were wrong and we all hope you are not in the medical field. It wasn't until my wife smelled my breath that it clicked in her head. I had a rotten tooth. If you guessed a bad tooth, keep it to yourself. No one likes a show off.
I have to apologize to Hubigail at this point. I inherited bad teeth from my mother. My wife also inherited the same from someone on her side. Hubert, you teeth are going to be horrid. That is why your mother is going into the dental field. Sorry and you are welcome.
Back to the story. I looked into the depths of my mouth and saw the source of my woes. What was left of the tooth was broken at the gum line and black. How did I not know the tooth was broken? As I said, I inherited bad teeth. I did not inherit the money to take care of them properly. My tooth had been broken for some time. It didn't hurt so I didn't worry about it. The funny thing is that it still didn't hurt.
My wife, being her awesome self, made an appointment with La Clinica. If you have never heard of them or think you know all about them but have never had to go there, they are amazing. When we get millions of dollars, we will make a hefty donation. They rushed me in and examined my mouth. They were not too concerned after I told them there was no pain. The plan was to extract it and send me on my way after I took some meds for a few days.
They got me in a few days later to yank that sucker out. Dr. Casual numbed me up and set to work whistling a happy tune.
When it comes to the dentist, most people feel fear. I, on the other hand, go in with the knowledge that I am about to undergo serious pain (I also inherited an extra set of nerves in my gums that are not easily numbed) and suck it up. But, the one thing you don't want to ever experience is the feeling I got when the dentist stopped whistling and developed an expression of equal parts shock and panic. He then called for lots of suction.
Let's switch to my wife's perspective for this next part. She was sitting in the corner watching. According to her, my fears of him puncturing my sinus cavity (it was a tooth in my upper gums) were off, but not by much. When the dentist pulled my tooth out, pus began squirting everywhere. Apparently, he had not suspected the infection was that bad. After four hours of suctioning up pus (give or take 3 hours and 55 minutes) he breathed a sigh of relief. He then tuned to his table and retrieved the scissors (I don't know the technical term for flesh removing scissors). He set to work cutting dead tissue out of my tooth hole.
When all was said and done, la dentista packed my mouth with gauze and took a seat. He explained the infection was eating into the bones in my face and working its way into my sinuses. It was also seeping into my mouth and killing my taste buds. On top of that, my body was going into shock while fighting off the infection (thus the Captain Thunderpants marathon). He had never seen anything like it in both his years as a dentist (I don't actually know how long he was a dentist). With that, he gave me a bouncy ball and sent me on my way. I have plenty more dental work to be done but we have to wait until the money comes in.
So, the moral of the story, gentlemen, is to make sure you are healthy in all ways. Your family to be will not be happy without you there. They may not be too put out if your face rots off due to a tooth, but they would prefer you were not the elephant man. Moreover, you have a role to play in your family's future and you need to be there as best you can. The End.