Tinkerbell My Arse

February 19, 2008 at 3:17 am (Uncategorized)

I think I may have discovered the source of last Thursday’s mega-migraine. You see, I had a visit from the tooth fairy the same night. As I just said to my friend Tamsin, it was the tooth fairy, but not as we know her. It wasn’t the sweet, benevolent fairy who leaves money under your pillow as you soundly sleep on. No, this was the fucking bitch fairy, who rips your head apart in the dead of night so she can better stab at all your nerve-endings.

Wicked, wicked fairy. Naughty fairy, who I’d spray with something utterly noxious if only she’d dare come near me again (please, please don’t). Something like, say, Mortein. Or Agent Orange.

On Thursday night, after the roar in my skull became just a dull throbbing sensitivity to movement, sound, and light (and this represents a genuine improvement in conditions, mind you), I was violently awoken by the tooth fairy wrenching at my jaw-line. “Fucking OUCH,” I wailed, clutching at the side of my face. “That fucking hurts.” Bitch fairy laughed gaily and went in for the kill, using some garden-dwelling variety of jackjammer at the back of my mouth. Staggering to the bathroom, I tried to shake her off, but she just dangled from my tonsils and poked at the swollen skin. Bitch.

I ignored her all day Friday. But it seems she didn’t take very kindly to being omitted from Friday’s post, because when I tried to sleep that night, she let me know in no uncertain terms that she’d like credit where credit is due. She’s convinced she caused my migraine – all part of her charm – so why didn’t I just say so and put her name up in lights? Okay. My mistake. It was the bitch fairy. She did it. She has the power and deserves the glory. There. I said it. Hope she’s happy now, the fucking narcissistic diva.

By the time I fell out of bed with the pain on Saturday morning, I knew she had me beat. I needed a dentist, and I needed one last week. So I ran – ran, I tell you – to the nearest dental surgery in the desperate hope of giving bitch fairy the slip. I knew I had the advantage – she tends to get her beauty sleep (and god knows she needs it) during the day. Just like the blood-sucking evil vampire she is.

Emergency dentist came out of the dark, stormy mist of my excruciating pain and I could have sworn he was backlit by a halo. This grew brighter as he whipped out a prescription pad. It positively vibrated when he said conspiratorially “These are extremely effective pain killers.” The light around his precious, sweet head only dimmed when he added “You have an impacted wisdom tooth that’s infected. It’s going to require surgery.”

“Fuck you, bitch fairy,” I thought. And then I thought “Drugs!”

That’s about the last thought I’ve had. Every time I try and branch out and think about something else, something in my mouth moves and then my brain freezes with agony and all I can think is “Drugs!”

Must. Have. More. Drugs! I don’t usually take anything – did you see how I toughed it out with that migraine? KAPOW! – but I am loving these puppies. I’m counting down the 8 hour break between dosages like I’m going to win the lottery at the end. Actually, just an unbroken night’s sleep would do. Bitch fairy keeps sniggering at me and taunting me through the night because she knows I have a wedding in three days and that my drugs will be almost out by then. “You’re not photogenic at the best of times, honey,” she cackled at me last night. “Just wait til the painkillers wear off and the swelling kicks back in!” The alternative? Getting my impacted wisdom tooth pulled out before the wedding. I don’t think so. I wouldn’t give that bitch fairy the satisfaction.


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