I never thought I'd have to take last week's post title so literally...

So last week, I wrote a post called "The Wracking of Nerves," in which I talked/whined/paranoia'd my way through the dilemma of the week: still having a job after Labor Day.

The good news?

On Wednesday, at eight o'clock at night, my boss called me to tell me they were keeping me.

I get to keep my job, guys.



*pauses to let that sink in*


I AM SO FREAKING HAPPY! Thank you so much to everyone who has listened to me being neurotic and anxious and unable to focus on anything else. Thanks for all your well-wishes, and encouragement on this crazy journey. It's been amazing, and I'm so excited I get to keep on finding out what cool stuff can happen in a zoo for an educator like me!


Something else happened on Wednesday, though. My tooth, which I had gotten worked on six months ago by a dentist I will now refer to as the Butcher of San Diego, started to hurt. A LOT.

I was popping ibuprofen like it was candy, and it was just getting worse. So I went into a different, new dentist on Thursday, where they proceeded to tell me that it looked like the Butcher had screwed up my filling to the point where I needed a root canal.

Guess what Thursday was the day before?

That's right. The four-day weekend all dentists apparently take for Labor Day.

The pain got exponentially worse. When I left the dentist on Thursday, they told me to keep taking ibuprofen and I should be fine.

By Saturday afternoon, I was rocking back and forth on the couch, crying. My husband called the emergency number on our dentist's line asking if there was anything else we could do.

He didn't call back til almost nine o'clock that night, but when he did, he finally called me in a prescription for some stronger painkillers and antibiotics.

It took two hours to get them filled, but then I slept for the first time in three days without waking up in pain six times.

My husband had to drive me to work the next day, but I thought I'd make it through the day now that I had the super drugs. I was wrong. I should have stayed home. Despite working my way up to a very high dose, the pain was STILL breaking through every hour or so, sending me into paroxysms of pacing and moaning in pain-- really awesome to do in public, in uniform.

Finally, last night, I caved in and took the maximum dose I could. And I slept. And slept, and slept, and slept, until about 1:00 this afternoon, waking up only once to take a new dose.

It's finally starting to work. I just hope, when I finally go in to the dentist tomorrow, that they can actually take care of it... I'm not sure how much longer I can reasonably go about like this.

And that, my friends, is why I unfortunately STILL don't have contest results for you. But if I don't have them next week, I give you all permission to call me horrible names. In fact, you can do that now, if you like. Really. Go right ahead. I'm so hopped up on vicodin I'll probably just laugh.

Maybe.

Thanks for being patient, Alliteratus. Means the world to me. :)