TMIT: Wisdom and Vomit (And How They Tie Together)

When I was 17, I swore I was in love with a boy.  It’s kind of ironic that this story involves him today because it just so happens to be his birthday (Happy Birthday, D!).  I swore even more that I was going to marry this boy in a short five years when we both had finished college.  Of course, my life is no fairy tale, so that didn’t happen.

The August before heading off to college 800 miles away from my home town, I had my first surgery: wisdom teeth extraction.  I have to tell you, I learned that day why I am so damn smart: heyo, bitches, I had six wisdom teeth removed!  I didn’t even know it was possible to have more than the usual four.

I went in and went under.  Since it was my first surgery, I didn’t know what to expect.  I also didn’t know how severe of a reaction to the anesthesia I was going to have.  I woke up, completely unaware of my surroundings, was taken home after stumbling into the car and went to sleep.

At this time in my life, I had the best first love in the world.  He took care of me and stood up for me like no one else did.  I wanted to see him so terribly that day because I felt like shit.  So, like any clingy, pathetic girlfriend, I asked him to come by and see me, doped up on pain meds and my mouth filled with cotton pads.

He came over and sat across from me in a chair.  As I was sitting on the couch, looking at him with the saddest eyes humanly possible, expressing our love for one another with no words, a sudden, uh, urge came over me.  I didn’t have time to react to the “gut” feeling and before I knew it, pure liquid vomit was rolling up through me.  Since my mouth had just been cut open in four different places that day, I couldn’t hurl the vomit forward all projectile-like.  Instead, it kinda dribbled down my chin and onto my chest.

My poor sweetheart could only sit there in disbelief, taking every effort in his body not to spew a filthy, frothy mess from his own mouth.  But it gets better.  Once my mom realized I was having a reaction to the anesthesia and had called the doctor for nausea medication, they said it was took late to take anything oral.  So right there in my own bathroom I was violated in the worst way possible: my own mother had to stick a suppository up my ass when I was eighteen years old.

Since that day I have learned that on surgery days or even days when I’m sick, just leave me the hell alone.  You’ve been forewarned.

Tagged as: love, men, relationships, surgery, TMIT, wisdom, women