I spit, not swallow

Of course I spit.

You would, too, you know.

When you find your gums all ballooned and tender and pus-filled.

That, ladies and gentleman is my exact predicament now.

Sunday morning, I woke up and found that only half of my upper teeth are visible because my gums have mysteriously ballooned up overnight.

Now, now. This has happened before. And the last time it did, I pressed on the swells and splattered the mirror at the office washroom with pus.

So. Graphic. I. Know.

I tried doing that on Sunday, you know, to drain the abscess but I succeeded only in making myself cry.

Anyway, as of yesterday afternoon, my palate had swelled to the thickness of my thumb and it finally made sense to pay a visit to my GP. I was surprised I had not suffocated in my sleep. Pain by then had spread to my lower jaw, which gave me an earache, and that, too, subsequently gave me a massive headache. Oh, and I had a slight fever, too.

I figured that I should ask the doctor to give me some pills that will knock me out and make me wake up brand new and shiny. Unlike how I ODed on a cocktail of pills and birds nest on Sunday.

So, anyway. Doc said it's an infection due to injury. Means that it could be something as simple as pricking my gums with a fishbone or brushing my teeth the wrong way.

I came home and stuffed myself with a Big Mac meal before taking my meds.

Those must be miracle pills, I tell you.

Barely half an hour after I took them, my gums exploded and splattered a mixture of abscess and blood and bits of flesh on my wall.

Ohkay, so that didn't happen.

But my gums did explode.

Twice yesterday.

Another two times today.

And as I'm typing this, I have tissue stuffed in my mouth on my palate so that I don't swallow.

Vile, vile, you know.

I must've rinsed my mouth a total of 257 times now.

Remember the lesson, boys and girls. Always spit, never swallow.