... and 5, 6, 7, 8

You know you're a dancer when... you are trying to time something entirely unrelated to dance and find yourself counting in sets of 8.
I've actually missed a lot of class, lately. I had oral surgery again last week, and I have discovered that stitches don't go well with raising my heart rate (THROB THROB THROB). Before that, though, I simply flaked out on pointe class for a few weeks because I was feeling leftover hormonal stuff (mainly fist-shaking rage). I think I am going to try technique class tonight (probably not pointe, simply because I can't eat well enough to get my energy levels up that high right now) if for no other reason than to unload the car load full of tutus that are clogging up every square inch of floor space in my sewing room. This latest batch was gone through while I was feeling particularly nasty, so I'm afraid I was pretty ruthless about throwing things away.
Honestly? I'd kind of like to blow off class, tonight. On the other hand... yesterday was stressful and upsetting so maybe the ballet "therapy" is exactly what I need. Besides, the inactivity of the past week has made my knees seize up something terrible.

Orally Fabulous, That's What

So, I had a bunch of crunky oral surgery last week, right? I mean... it was okay. I had nice "hypnotic" (I didn't even know that was a thing) drugs to make the time go faster, and they let me have a blanket and all... apparently my finger isn't a great place to continually check my pulse and I am oddly sensitive to penicillin, but hey. You learn something new every day.
Anyway. Things went pretty normally. After the first twelve hours or so I didn't need painkillers anymore. Which shocked me, honestly. But, yeah... so things have been pretty good. Except...
You know what the awesome part of auto-immune disorders is? The insanely out-of-proportion inflammatory response to EVERYTHING EVER. I imagine the inside of my mouth will eventually go back to normal... I hope I live to see that glorious future day... right now I am just happy that I only look a little bit like a chipmunk with seeds in his mouth (which was not the case yesterday). Can't worry too much about the fact that my gums look and feel a bit like the inside of a bike tire, right? I'm sure the feeling will come back eventually.

My surgeon is like "take 800 milligrams of motrin!" and I'm like "I can't take motrin, ibuprofen, naproxen, aspirin, relafen, or any other NSAID because I take a fairly high dose of Meloxicam every day and I would rather not have my kidneys fail, mmmkay?" You chop people's faces open every day, how is it you've never met someone with rheumatoid arthritis, before?

This sounds all bitchy but it's not, really! She did a lovely job chopping my face apart, I swear! And, I am not just saying that because she is going to chop it open again in four months and I am afraid for my life!

Blerg

I am going under the knife tomorrow morning, the first of possibly several rounds of oral surgery that I will be dealing with this year. I'm pretty freaked out about it. I was really looking forward to dancing tonight, I need to burn off some nervous energy and I missed last week so I want to get back to the studio...
but apparently penicillin makes me violently ill? Ah, well. That's, uh...good to know? I guess?