And now for more analogies!
Apr. 12th, 2004 02:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tsukikageThings are great. 4-6 weeks ahead of the typical, recovery-wise. No exposed bone, as I thought. No apocalypse in the early "falling out" of my stitches. In fact, he removed all of the stitches in back. The discovered crisis: I had lost four pounds in the week since my last visit. That's not that much, but the worry is that if I don't get out of this shallow eating habit so I don't lose another fifteen by May. To be honest, I figured I'd gain my appetite back soon enough that this would be a nice opportunity to lose a little flab off my stomach by just eating when I'm hungry. After all, I myself would be disturbed if I intentionally went on a diet with my steady 120 +/- 5.
Dad explained that no, my appetite won't just come back by itself, and eating according to appetite in this condition would bring me to dangerous weights. The point: the only healthy thing right now is to try to gain weight, as it assures not losing any. And you know what? Sure, I'd like to be 110, but 130's perfectly fine with me. Besides, if what I really want to do is get rid of the excess flab in certain areas, wouldn't it be more efficient to work on toning them? Not only do you burn fat but you for the most part get to choose WHICH fat (if there's any fat in those wrists of mine, losing it would make me go to the doctor).
The strangest thing today. So, my gums were incredibly sore, and then the stopped hurting. Ok, I've stopped aggravating them long enough for them to recover. Strange, but a happy whatever.
Around noon or 12:15, my palate seems to get number than before, or at least a different kind of numb - a warm kind of numb. I vaguely wonder if this some sort of regression in my recovery?
At slightly after 12:30 I climb into the van Dad has pulled up outside Coffman. Within a minute I feel this cool "pop", like a tiny pop-rock had popped above my palate. Then some more. Then suddenly I feel as if there's a shallow stream of cool water running a thin path across my palate. My whole palate becomes cool to my tongue's touch. More mini pop-rocks, spreading across the entirety of my soft palate. That spot under my eye begins to twitch as it has many times before; but not since my surgery. Under both eyes. It subsides. The pop-rocks return. As we get nearer the doctor's office, my cheeks begin to tingle. They, too, develop mini pop-rocks. My cheeks' popping is accompanied by a soft vibration in my palate. My nose feels like it's somehow dripped down and touched my upper lip. Not even a fly had landed on it.
And so the random fireworks that seemed to have been scheduled for 12:30 today without even an out-of-dress rehearsal continues. The sensations change slightly every minute or so. By the time I get back to the U some of them have become vaguely unpleasant (ever so mild stinging or itching), but it's so weak that if I weren't fascinated by it I probably wouldn't have perceived them.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the back of my lower jaw is caught in minor traffic, and the hard palate called in sick, but welcome to the grand re-opening of neural transmission in and surrounding my oral cavity!"
*smiles and bows politely amidst the applause and roaring cheers*
"Thank you, thank you. I would also like to apologize for the slight inconvenience as we complete some final touches. We hope all the main exhibits will be open in the next few month, and the contractor has assured us that the last construction scraps should be removed from the premises within six months. Until then, feel free to explore and observe all we have to offer! Feel free to stop by our gift shop with pocky, ice cream, books, hugs or simple "hi"s at any time."
Hee - that was fun. =P
Anyways, though, although my heightened sensitivity to the "you still there"s between my brain and the rest of my face can get pretty distracting, it's kind of a fun experience, wondering what will come next, like at Fourth of July fireworks. When I have nothing that demands my attention, I find myself mentally ooh-ing and aah-ing at the varying sensations, and once-in-a-while awe-ing at the wonders of the human body and it's ability to heal.
But moving on. Somewhere in all of this my sleep deprivation and anxiety is making for an appropriately surreal setting for these surreal sensations. It feel everything, but a part of me wouldn't be at all surprised if I was in some VR right now. It kind of reminds me when I used to get this feeling that I was separated from the world by this invisible box that made everyone twice as far away: also twice as quiet, twice as much effort to touch, gave me the need to speak twice as loudly. Of course my brain knew that that would be perceived by others as yelling, but my gut felt like I was trying to communicate in whispers.
This isn't quite the same... I'll have to get the cook's recipe, but I'm guessing the main difference lies in the seasonings, though I wouldn't at all be surprised if they substituted the pollack with crab.
I'm really not in the mood to go to class, but as it's going to start in 7 minutes and I'd have to think of something else to say, I'll be responsible (for once).
Dad explained that no, my appetite won't just come back by itself, and eating according to appetite in this condition would bring me to dangerous weights. The point: the only healthy thing right now is to try to gain weight, as it assures not losing any. And you know what? Sure, I'd like to be 110, but 130's perfectly fine with me. Besides, if what I really want to do is get rid of the excess flab in certain areas, wouldn't it be more efficient to work on toning them? Not only do you burn fat but you for the most part get to choose WHICH fat (if there's any fat in those wrists of mine, losing it would make me go to the doctor).
The strangest thing today. So, my gums were incredibly sore, and then the stopped hurting. Ok, I've stopped aggravating them long enough for them to recover. Strange, but a happy whatever.
Around noon or 12:15, my palate seems to get number than before, or at least a different kind of numb - a warm kind of numb. I vaguely wonder if this some sort of regression in my recovery?
At slightly after 12:30 I climb into the van Dad has pulled up outside Coffman. Within a minute I feel this cool "pop", like a tiny pop-rock had popped above my palate. Then some more. Then suddenly I feel as if there's a shallow stream of cool water running a thin path across my palate. My whole palate becomes cool to my tongue's touch. More mini pop-rocks, spreading across the entirety of my soft palate. That spot under my eye begins to twitch as it has many times before; but not since my surgery. Under both eyes. It subsides. The pop-rocks return. As we get nearer the doctor's office, my cheeks begin to tingle. They, too, develop mini pop-rocks. My cheeks' popping is accompanied by a soft vibration in my palate. My nose feels like it's somehow dripped down and touched my upper lip. Not even a fly had landed on it.
And so the random fireworks that seemed to have been scheduled for 12:30 today without even an out-of-dress rehearsal continues. The sensations change slightly every minute or so. By the time I get back to the U some of them have become vaguely unpleasant (ever so mild stinging or itching), but it's so weak that if I weren't fascinated by it I probably wouldn't have perceived them.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the back of my lower jaw is caught in minor traffic, and the hard palate called in sick, but welcome to the grand re-opening of neural transmission in and surrounding my oral cavity!"
*smiles and bows politely amidst the applause and roaring cheers*
"Thank you, thank you. I would also like to apologize for the slight inconvenience as we complete some final touches. We hope all the main exhibits will be open in the next few month, and the contractor has assured us that the last construction scraps should be removed from the premises within six months. Until then, feel free to explore and observe all we have to offer! Feel free to stop by our gift shop with pocky, ice cream, books, hugs or simple "hi"s at any time."
Hee - that was fun. =P
Anyways, though, although my heightened sensitivity to the "you still there"s between my brain and the rest of my face can get pretty distracting, it's kind of a fun experience, wondering what will come next, like at Fourth of July fireworks. When I have nothing that demands my attention, I find myself mentally ooh-ing and aah-ing at the varying sensations, and once-in-a-while awe-ing at the wonders of the human body and it's ability to heal.
But moving on. Somewhere in all of this my sleep deprivation and anxiety is making for an appropriately surreal setting for these surreal sensations. It feel everything, but a part of me wouldn't be at all surprised if I was in some VR right now. It kind of reminds me when I used to get this feeling that I was separated from the world by this invisible box that made everyone twice as far away: also twice as quiet, twice as much effort to touch, gave me the need to speak twice as loudly. Of course my brain knew that that would be perceived by others as yelling, but my gut felt like I was trying to communicate in whispers.
This isn't quite the same... I'll have to get the cook's recipe, but I'm guessing the main difference lies in the seasonings, though I wouldn't at all be surprised if they substituted the pollack with crab.
I'm really not in the mood to go to class, but as it's going to start in 7 minutes and I'd have to think of something else to say, I'll be responsible (for once).
