I have taken all kine NSAIDS and dug around, which weirdly doesn't hurt at all, but bleeds, and swooshed with hydrogen peroxide and swooshed with warm salt water and hung myself and jumped out the window and jumped into the raging sea... all to no avail.
Then I remembered the Dilaudid left from my surgery... maybe too soon after resorting to a chill pill... and so... the pain is gone. But I might not keep breathing through the night... so says PubMed, anyway, and they're wusses.
C'est la vie, type of thing. I knew a woman who killed herself accidentally while trying to get her pain down well enough to sleep. Her ticker wasn't strong enough for the pain meds. I don't think I'm following her example, but, well, I think I've isolated the offending tooth. Even though a bunch of other ones and my cheek and tongue are all chiming in that they are the problem—that redundancy of nerves I have in there, of course—so, even after having the distinct impression that I'd fixed the problem yesterday and this was almost all better, suddenly, as everything was closing, this came back on like a ten alarm fire and I have been in way worse pain than even the awful pain yesterday. So if I've killed myself, it will probably be more merciful than the County dental clinic, where I will be found if still breathing in the morning. I can tell you that at this moment I feel darn peaceful and there's only a distant ache in my right cheek right now.
If only we had video of me earlier this evening. You would be much relieved I eventually remembered the Dilaudid pills. You will even believe it the best possible solution if I screwed up and didn't wake up. Phil, bless his heart, appears to have left me some mystical advice on pain management in yogis. I'm unsure because I was rendered unable to read at the time it came in, and am shortly to be too woozy to read, but maybe I can study it for the future after someone's bashed this sucker with a hammer or whatever they do around here to sobbing freaks with their hair standing on end.
If this hasn't made any sense, it's the drugs, man. Most of them don't work on me right. Can't take most pain meds because they make me wired and don't touch the pain, but things with some vestigial molecules of actual opiates work fine, thank heaven. Oh, shit, where's that other Bukowski quote?
Misogynist old fuck had some great points on just about everything except women.
We're all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn't. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing.