Oy veh. What a week. Monday went reasonably well - I wasn't feeling quite right, so I wasn't very active, but I helped to clean Mom's room and took a walk. And ate several hundred calories of cheese balls, which made me feel like shit, so I've made a mental note not to buy those again.
Monday night my jaw started acting up for the fourth time. I broke the jaw - well, we *think* I broke the jaw - during a difficult tooth extraction six weeks ago. The socket gave me extreme pain for a week, which I stupidly didn't get sorted until five days after the extraction. I recognise that I have a huge problem when it comes to seeking medical help. I do it, I just don't do it quickly enough. I was sick throughout my childhood - I have almost no immune system - and when I got fibromyalgia when I was 12, the stock response that I got from a lot of doctors, a few teachers, and my parents, was that I was either making up the pain and tiredness to get attention, or more likely that I genuinely didn't feel well but was greatly exaggerating it to get off school. It didn't help that the illness was so unpredictable; I might have no energy for a day or a few days or a few weeks, and then I'd perk up and feel almost normal for a while. Things are better now (not perfect, but better); more doctors see fibromyalgia as a legitimate illness, and I've come past the teen years where everything I said was automatically suspect. (Somewhat unfairly, I must say; I was a ridiculously responsible teenager in most respects.) But it's left me with this wait-and-see mentality, where I avoid seeking medical care until I'm sure that a problem is serious enough to bother a doctor (or dentist) about.
Having nearly died fourteen months ago from strep throat that went systemic during the time I was waiting to see (although I was waiting for other reasons then) you'd think I would have learned my lesson. But as my doctor back them told me, even heavy-duty antibiotics can't cure stupidity.
So after the extraction, I didn't see the dentist for five days. Partly because they don't work weekends, partly because I'd never had a tooth extracted and had no idea what degree of pain was normal (the fibromyalgia has also left me with a tendency to think that I'm overexaggerating my pains, although in reality I'm probably understating them. Regardless, I don't have a reliable yardstick for what kind of pain is normal pain and what kind needs to be investigated) but mostly just because I'm an idiot. I kept checking for a dry socket (which I thankfully did not have) but it turned out I had a nasty infection instead. She packed it with antibiotic / anaesthetic gauze, gave me a prescription for metronidazole and sent me home. The metronidazole was harsh on my stomach, but the tooth cleared up. Until the day after I finished the 7-day course, I went to eat a sandwich, opened my mouth a little wider than normal, and screamed in pain. Of course, it was Friday lunchtime and we couldn't get a dentist appointment for love nor money. Tried all day Friday and all day Saturday, by which point my face had swelled up like a chipmunk, and finally got an emergency dentist who said to come in on Sunday morning.
Sunday I woke up and it felt fine. Go figure.
A similar thing happened two other times, both at times when I couldn't get a dentist, both after I opened my mouth to eat solid food. In the normal order of things, I eat small bites, and I don't open my mouth very wide when I'm talking. The only times I open wide are to eat baguettes or burgers or hot dogs (a fairly rare occurrence) or to floss my teeth - which it turned out was what caused the pain to start up again the last three times. I was told not to floss for a couple weeks after the extraction, but what with the jaw pain I haven't been able to floss properly, right to the back, in six weeks, and it's driving me mad.
Luckily the two times before this, the problem righted itself within a day or two, as long as I kept the jaw immobilised. The socket's been oozing pus for weeks, but without any real pain, except for when I pull out bone sequestra (which, I'm sorry to say, are green. Yuck). But then this started up Monday night, just mildly at first, and I thought it would sort itself out...but it didn't.
Tuesday, Mom and I went to the Galleria, a shopping mall in Hatfield (the next town over, and home to my university). We don't have a mall in my town, only high street shops and a couple of outdoor parades, so I'm always happy to get some mall time. It was a bit sad - all the malls around here look pretty empty since the economy tanked - but it still would have been fun if the jaw hadn't totally taken over. I thought that if I went out and distracted myself I'd notice it less, but I actually seemed to notice it MORE. I walked a lot that day - three hours, plus the time walking back and forth between bus stops - so it wasn't a total loss as far as exercise was concerned, even if I did eat McDonalds for lunch. (I eat McDonalds three or four times a year, but boy do I love it.) And I bought a present for my sister, and one for my nephew, and two for Mom, so I only have my little sisters left now. (I saw some things in Kurt Geiger that they'd like, but the problem is actually going out to get them when I'm on the verge of screaming half the time.)
Wednesday and today I slept for the majority of the day. I ate crappy food. I stayed under my calorie count, but both Tuesday and today (Thursday) I went over my fat allowance. Only by 2 or 3 grams each time, but considering that most days I eat between a third and two thirds of my fat allowance - I am not someone who's really into greasy food - it was a bit of a bummer. Oh well, I'll live.
I'm not sure I'll survive the jaw, or the aches in my body from not exercising, but that's another issue. :)
I saw the dentist this morning. She couldn't see a break on the x-ray, but she only did a tooth x-ray instead of a whole head. If the problem continues, I'll have to push for a full head one, but I don't think my reduced fees will cover it and it'll cost me ￡150. Hopefully they'll let me pay in instalments if it comes to that, because any money I get for Christmas has to go to paying next semester's tuition; I only have three weeks left in this semester after we go back after Christmas. I think the next semester starts the first week of February.
She gave me more antibiotics - amoxicillin this time - bringing my total to three courses in two months. Hell. I always feel depressed during a course, and for a couple weeks after, since they seem to mess with my brain chemicals. I've only just got happy again after the last course five weeks ago.
I wish Curt were here. My BFF is in his third year of dentistry at Bristol uni, but he also works full time, drives between Bristol and London on Fridays and Sundays, and has a wife who requires much time and attention. I need him here for moral support and cuddles and to talk me through the medical side of things, but it'd be selfish to tell him that.
On a slightly happier note, mom has volunteered to buy me one of the dresses I want, that have now gone on half-price sale. (The one I really want is not on sale, natch.)
I just have to lose the twenty pounds it'll take for the first and the fifty pounds it'll take to look good in the second and third. :)
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