I may have the worst luck known to the entire population of mankind. Seriously. Nothing can every just be simple for me, it must be the most ordinary thing stuffed inside chaos, wrapped in anguish, drenched in pain, and then set on fire. Example: 2 years ago I had to have my wisdom teeth out, and I didn’t even have 2 up top, so I only had to have the bottom two cut out. It sounds so simple, even my doctor said “Oh you’re lucky”. Big mistake doc, curse you and your jinxing witchcraft of dentistry. So I arrive at the office, everything goes smoothly, I’m sent home with some pain medicine, and expected to make a full recovery after 3 days. Well that is the opposite of how shit went. First off, it should be noted that I sneeze abnormally. I don’t just “achoo” and it’s over, I have to hold my nose when I sneeze because I have this deep fear that I will blow jump ropes made snot if I don’t. My entire family always makes fun of me for it, and I’ve always been told I’m eventually going to sneeze my eyeballs out. Ok, well that didn’t happen, but here’s what did happen: I sneeze (holding my nose) and I actually feel my face inflate the same way a balloon does when you blow air into it. I thought I was still loopy so curiosity made me stupid, and I actually kept blowing air into my face, mesmerized by watching it grow larger and larger in the bathroom mirror. At this time it registers that something is very very wrong and I flip out and show my mom who drives me immediately back to the doctor’s office. I am admitted to the ICU as I now look like a mutant and nobody knows what’s wrong with me. By the time I am hooked up to my IV, I look like Sloth from the Goonies (HEEEEY YOU GUUUUUYS!).
This is not what I expected at all. Unfortunately, this is only the beginning of the misfortune to come, so I will cut it short and let you know that it turns out I had Spontaneous Subcutaneous Emphysema in my face, and I was released from captivity a week later. Now, being the lucky person that I am, the doctor discovers that the sockets where my wisdom teeth were taken out are now overrun with filth and whatnot so he has to go in and reopen them to empty them out. Cool? No. Not cool. In fact, during that surgery, the doctor somehow manages to slice my lip almost in half. So to clarify, I could basically take my tongue and almost stick it straight out through my bottom lip. The thing is, I was so drugged up from the procedure that I don’t even notice the odd amount of blood and pain for 2 hours. My grandmother phones the doctor on call and he sounds really skeptical about the whole situation, but he does tell us to meet him at the ER, so on to the ER we go. Upon arriving, the doctor examines me and literally says “Holy shit!” and proceeds to have someone give me morphine and he stitches my lip up. He also writes me a prescription for percocet which I have never ever had. We go home once again assuming all is well. It is not…
Later that night I cannot sleep and I take the pain medicine as directed. I lie down and watch Friends, and a growing sense of doom begins to flood me. Could 6 friends with such different personalities really be that close? Did Chandler have to plan out all the witty things he said ahead of time? Could Ross really be such a douche and still bang Rachel? Were they really on a break? So many unanswered questions. So much confusion. I get out of bed to go get something to drink from the kitchen since the pain medicine has now given me cotton mouth. Oops, it appears I overestimated my leg strength and I completely fall and eat the floor. Second attempt, I make it into the living room (which is connected to the kitchen) without falling. At this time, it should also be noted that we have a cat who likes to kill everything. Rabbits, birds, bats, you name it, she is literally insane. So as I walk through the living room something catches the corner of my eye. I stop. Something is wiggling under the curtains, and as I bend down to make out what it is, I am horrified. There under the curtain is a bloodied poor little baby bunny rabbit. I panic and flee to the kitchen, but as soon as I get into the room, I notice something on the fireplace. A dead parakeet! Oh God, our cat has murdered the entire neighborhood’s pets and brought them all home to create a shrine of murder! I scream in terror and run to my mom’s room.
Me: “MOOOOOOM! Bunny! Curtain! Dead! LOOOOOK!”
Mom: “Errr. Meeeeeh. Whaaaat?”
She finally follows me into the kitchen and I show her the dead parakeet. She squints and looks confused.
Mom: “There’s nothing there…”
Me: She is right. “It was just here!”
So I drag her into the living room to show her the dead bunny, but the dead bunny has now turned into the cat’s toy mouse.
My mom is now angered since it is her only day off, and I have woken her up at 2 am to play “Dead Animal Safari” around the house.
Mom: “ANNA! Snap out of it! You’re hallucinating!!”
Me: *immediately star sobbing uncontrollably*
I don’t remember the rest, but apparently my mom eventually had to drug me with a sedative to get me to shut up and go to sleep. I woke up the next morning with no clue what had happened. I’ve drawn the details that I do remember in a very accurate picture below.