Crack, Pow, Done

I was originally trying to make the title of this blog entry a play on "How Stella Got Her Groove Back" by replacing "Stella" with "Daniel" and "Groove Back" with "Back Tooth" and then I realized that it was just a big hot tranny mess and gave up on it.

So my top wisdom teeth had to come out. Went in, got numbed up (the worst part of which was the punching-a-hole noise of the big metal hypodermic delivering numbing agents into my gums) and then hung out for a while. The chair offered very little arm support, so my options were to cross my hands on my stomach, or have them dangle sadly on either side of the chair. I ended up doing both, several times, as well as occasionally texting Christina to alleviate the monotony. They wouldn't let her come in with me - which was probably a blessing for her - but being able to contact her over text was enough to keep me tethered away from the world of panic I could feel myself slowly floating towards.

And then it began. Turning my head, reaching in, and applying what I logically knew was too much pressure - this much pressure should not be exerted on me, I worried - I felt my palate buckle and rock like a suspension bridge in high winds, and out came one. A turn, a wiggle, more torsion, and pow, the second. After all the dread and the twenty or so minutes of waiting, the entire ordeal lasted all of five minutes. Packed the holes with gauze and sent me on my merry way. The only thing I did all the while was assure the doctor I felt no pain, and laugh uncomfortably when a tooth was ripped from my skull.

I laughed a lot of the way home. They didn't give me nitrous oxide - it was just so absurd, the sensation of having your teeth ripped out. What was there to do but laugh? I even got to see the poor bloody things laying on the tray.

The new tooth configuration feels pretty good, like loosening your belt a notch. I don't envy myself the terrible pain that is assuredly on the horizon, but that's what Demerol is for.

Wii Fit (or, Dog Chasing for Fun and Profit (Prof Fit?!))

Christina finally buckled down and got Wii Fit, which was both good and bad for me. It's good because I love Nintendo and want to lose weight with its help, but it's bad because I weigh too much to use the Balance Board.

Eventually figuring she would just use her own weight as a proxy under my profile on the game, I decided instead that I wanted a more realistic view of my weight. So I had the terrible idea to have her stand on it while wearing a backpack full of books and hand weights on her belly, and holding two jugs of liquid in her hands. We fooled the game into realizing that my body mass index should be at the very top of Obese, and I felt more like it was suited to me. However, it still thinks I only weigh about 270 pounds.

Once we got past that part of the process, I got to do what I really wanted to do - jogging in place! You don't have to stand on the Balance Board. Instead, you just put a Wiimote in your pocket, and its movements sense your pace. I jogged for 15 minutes straight, and since I never actually lift my feet up, there was no impact on my tender tootsies. But don't think that I was cheating - I got all sweatied up, and kept my heartrate up for the duration of that time. It was great! I look forward to playing more often.

Whoops, I almost forgot to mention the dog chasing. James informed me that if you pass your jogging trainer when the cute little Fisher-Price dog passes you, you can chase the dog, instead! By the time I was done, I got to the point that I had tangented off after three different dogs. It was really fun!

Quiero!

I recently inherited a chihuahua. His name was "Mickey", but that name kind of sucked so I changed his name to "Quiero" (as in "Yo quiero Taco Bell"). Since they both have the "kee" sound in them, he has taken to it easily. Now if we could just teach him to pee in the proper place, he'd be a real joy to have around. Luckily, his bladder and bowels are only about the size of a walnut.

I weigh four-hundred and forty-eight pounds this morning, which is about 25 pounds away from where I started my current diet regimen. It feels good to be under 450. I don't know when the last time was that I weighed this little (literally, I don't remember). Why, in a hundred more pounds, I'll be able to safely use most exercise equipment!

Stayed up all night watching Star Trek and re-arranging the house. Now taking wife out for shopping and brunch. Vitality! I can't remember the last time I felt so full of energy. My new diet is a wonder! Now to destroy all progress at the Chinese buffet.

After doing some rudimentary math, I have determined that it would cost less to buy a passport and drive to Canada for health care than it would be to get a full workup at my local hospital. I've been having a lot of chest and arm pain recently, and have been thinking an EKG might be a good idea. I am just imagining them telling me that it is a miracle that I am alive and that a quintuple bypass will be required for my continued survival. If surgery were needed, I would beg them to also liposuction out as much fat as they feel comfortable taking. Lord, I can only imagine what it would feel like to suddenly be a hundred or more pounds lighter. Heavenly, I'm sure.