Category: IAMOWIM

Illnesses and Maladies, oh Woe is Me!

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IAMOWIM

A fool with a comfortable tongue

An update on [Opal Fruit… or Terrorist?][] follows.

[opal fruit… or terrorist?]: http://pete.nu/blog/2006/01/opal-fruit-or-terrorist/

This morning, after three and a half days of agony, I awoke to find my tongue feeling significantly better.

Okay, yes, agony might be a slightly strong word. Perhaps I should rephrase it a tad. For the previous three and a half days, my tongue had been very conspicuous. Periodically I’d feel a small jolt of pain as the swollen portion interfaced with the sharp edges of my lower teeth, reminding me of my ordeal. I’d try to pull my tongue down and back into the dark warmth offered by my lower jawspace, but the human body is clearly not designed in such a way as to facilitate this unnatural positioning for long, and when my concentration slipped I would suddenly be assaulted by this small jolt of pain once again.

This morning, evidently the swolling had dropped significantly, probably largely due to some clever, and repeated, use of [Bonjela][] yesterday. This begs the question, why didn’t I employ it sooner? Alas, I am a fool.

[bonjela]: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bonjela

But a fool with a comfortable tongue once again.

So I have created a new category called *Illnesses and Maladies, oh Woe is Me!* Writing about one’s ailments requires surprisingly little effort, and is therefore a perfect topic for those who have surprisingly little effort to donate.

(Waves sheepishly) Hi.

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Food IAMOWIM Peril Photos

Opal Fruit… or Terrorist?

I unwrapped the green Opal Fruit and tossed it lightly into my mouth, assuming that this would be an Opal Fruit like any other Opal Fruit.

Opal FruitsIn my complacency, I allowed my attention to wander to other tasks. This turned out to be my greatest of errors, for the Opal Fruit moved around in my mouth in a non-obvious fashion, exploiting my moment of least concentration to make a dive for the left cheek as the teeth came down.

Searing pain. My hand shot to my mouth. I left the room abruptly, aiming for the bathroom, where I could suffer my ordeal in sweet sweet solitude.

I spat into the basin. Blood.

I had bitten my tongue and made it bleed.

Being away from my desk, I didn’t instantly have Google to hand, so I had to improvise the treatment for a bleeding tongue. I applied some pressure with a clean forefinger, and when the flow had been staunched, I used cold water to wash my mouth out and remove the excess.

The pain eventually dulled to an irritating ache, and 24 hours (or so) later, I’m starting to feel a bit more human again. No segments of tongue were permanently lost, and I have faith that I will make a full physical recovery.

However, my ordeal still haunts me, and the Opal Fruits taunt me, and a flaunty thing flaunts me. A strawberry flavoured Opal Fruit sits, unwrapped, on my table top, beckoning me with its soft curves.

“Hey there,” she says, “Do you think you can handle me?”

I jibber and jabber back incoherently.

“I know what you are thinking,” she says, “If I succumb to her fruity wiles, will I be vulnerable to that pain all over again?”

I splutter and clutter.

“Oh, you silly boy,” she laughs, tossing her hair and fluttering her eyebrows, purring seductively from somewhere deep in her throat, “I don’t bite.” She laughs at how incredibly fucking witty she is.

Incensed by her cockiness, I toss her lightly into my mouth.

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IAMOWIM Parenting

Morning sickness. Well, more like just “sickness”

Though Karen finds the morning sickness (which lasts for most of the day) to be incredibly uncomfortable, provoking her to tears and cries of “why am I putting myself through this?”, the bright side is “hey, at least the little guy is still in there.”

I’ve told her that if she can hold onto this one, then she will never have to endure this again.

I wish that there were more that I could do, but this isn’t a problem that can be fixed by throwing money or flowers at it – I just have to keep doing what I am doing, which is to just be a damn nice guy, and give her something to smile about.

Oh, and in case you were wondering how I’m getting on with the Bell’s Palsy, I seem to be recovering well. I’m coming off the steroids as we speak.

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IAMOWIM Parenting

Back On Course

Following a period of suspicious lateness of period, Karen pissed on a piece of paper yesterday and it all worked out beautifully. I, meanwhile, am unable to really enjoy the event to its fullest as half of my face is dying. I went to the doctor today and he has diagnosed me with Bell’s Palsy which is no fun, but it’s what I was expecting. I’m going to be on steroids for the next two weeks, which is a terrifying concept, as the list of possible side-effects is as long as my arm. I guess this kind of stuff just happens sometimes. As long as Karen and I stick together and remember that we’re on the same team, I think we should kick the ass of anything that comes at us.

We’ve already decided that should we suffer another miscarriage, we’d be able to handle it a lot better. But then, I’m not sure if that’s true. Though we’re confident that we can get a pretty quick turnaround on these pregnancies (three months after her periods began again), she’s not, and I apologise for speaking frankly, getting any younger. Really, we want this one to work out, and we want it very much.

Meanwhile, I suppose I keep taking the drugs. Meh.

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IAMOWIM

Hyperquandary

I never used to go to the doctor’s much, because as far as I could see, it was a place for poorly people, and I have always been a tough fucker.

Dentists and opticians, of course, are quite different. You go there regularly, and they keep you tip top. They say, “Why Sir, you look good. Keep doing what you’re doing. And floss more.”

And they take money off you for it, so you think, ah, that’s cool. They get money, I get guidance. This is business. They like me being there.

But doctors are different. If you went to a doctor without an ailment, you’d be wasting their time. They don’t get money. They don’t think “awesome, that was the easiest £15 I’ll ever make.” They think “fucker.”

Recently my girlfriend has been getting very concerned about me. No grounds for it, as far as I can see, but I’ve been to the doctor’s twice in the last fortnight, for two different reasons, but on both occasions I’ve been told to “go back if it gets any worse.”

So what happens next time the girlfriend has one of her panic attacks and wants me to go to the doctor to have a particularly ugly looking hangnail checked out? Do I tell her that I’m a man, and can look after myself, and by golly, cavemen didn’t go to the doctor when they were poorly, and they were tough fuckers?

What then happens if the ugly looking hangnail jumps up and strangles me? I’ll wish I’d listened to her advice then.

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IAMOWIM

Toe problems

I stubbed my toe earlier today. Everyone accused me of hobbling round and making a big meal of it, but it’s bright purple now. I’m afraid that it’s going to turn black and drop off.

I took a photo of it with my new camera with the intention of putting it up here, but it’s just too gruesome to look at. Not only does my toe look like a plum, but my nails are dirty and I haven’t shaved my toe knuckles for… well, forever.

And besides, I would only have been putting it up so that I had an on-topic way to let you all know about my new camera, which I’ve done anyway. It’s a modest 3 megapixel Pentax, but it’s a step up from my clunky old 2 megapixel HP which was grainy and feature-sparse. This one’s loaded with tricks, and fits into the pocket of Pete.

*Originally posted here*