I went to the dentist at lunch today. I had the gas. The laughing kind.
I had two fillings, and I felt really special as I was walking out of the dentist, in my boot, floating above the clouds. I had numb face too, which was awesome with a side of milkshake running down my chin.
The best part about the gas for me is that I have really great ideas while I’m under.
I become manic, shooting off lists and ideas in my head, while I pretend that I’m on an airplane, reclining while someone gives me a pedicure. Today, I was thinking I could probably run a little bit after work, make some nice cookies after dinner, and maybe even get in a pilates class before the morning. Of course, I was overlooking one minor problem:
No, no, I thought to myself, I think I can run. Really. The foot feels fiiiiine.
I must’ve been under the gas last night, because I had a dream that I was running and started acting it out in my sleep. At one point, I stomped my right (broke ass) foot on the bed, and I screamed. Yep, it felt pretty broken.
Admittedly, I haven’t done much in the way of exercising since this happened and I went to Life Time last Saturday, but I am hopeful for a swim on Saturday to begin Recovery Week 2.
Now that the Expert is back in town, I feel safer wander to the pool. He can catch me if I hit the pool deck and bust out my front teeth. I guess that would get me back under the gas.
Really, I am scared of the showers in the gym without my boot. I can walk carefully as I want, but there is no amount of grace possible with a naked, broke-foot fall. Pray for me.