Golf ball cheeks and sympathy fairies, all wrapped up in bloody red towels.

Greetings from an even more odd looking than usual, Helen! With less than the usual amount of adult teeth. The tooth fairy most certainly did not come, although maybe it did in the form of sympathy and not having to cook all week. Ha!

Am over half way through the drugs now. Speech is becoming easier and my deformed face is slowly deflating, though I'm still completely lop-sided. Looks like I have a golf ball in my cheek. But at least I can open my mouth a little wider now. Eating was particularly difficult, tedious and lengthy on Tuesday, But as usual my stomach won. I was damn hungry having not eaten for eight hours and undergone surgery. So hunger trumped pain and I made my way ridiculously slowly through some cottage pie, pizza (except crusts) and soft bread and tzatziki. Followed by ice cream. Nom nom.

Then I fell asleep watching Tintin (Terrible film. Great characters of course, looks real but the story was so boring.) and you know when you wake up and think...oh I was dribbling. Lovely. Well imagine waking up and having dribbled blood all over yourself. Freaked A out a bit. So decided to sleep with a red towel on my pillow, just in case. Delightful really.

With all the drugs possible in my system the plan was for a good nights sleep, not something I'm particularly renowned for. But it seemed fate was against me. I woke in pain at about 3.00am. So I thought I'd take some more of my antibiotics and some paracetamol. But when I got back in bed I realised it wasn't just the pain that had woken me up, I could hear some shitty dance music pounding from somewhere in the building.

What the feck? I wouldn't mind (well yes I would, even if it was the weekend) but it's not like it was the weekend. It was Tuesday night (technically Wednesday Morning) and freakin' ridiculous. A eventually woke up and he went to investigate where it was coming from. He found out it was the top floor (which I'm pretty sure is where the pregnant lady is from who struggled without the lift, but I can't be sure.) and the guy said he would turn it down.

Guess what? About a half hour later he whacked up the volume again. So it's now about 3.45 and I've got no chance at going to sleep. A went up again but this time the guy wouldn't even open the door. It went on till about 4.45 and then I managed to get back to sleep for a meagre couple of hours before A's alarm went off. Bloody typical. The one night where I really could have done with a good sleep and some stupid twat has to piss off the entire building. A put in complaints by email. Good on him!!!!!

What has shocked me so much about the recovery is the lack of pain. It's amazing but I feel like it's just lulling me into a false sense of security and that as soon as the anti-biotics run out I'll be hit with the full force. Hopefully not but I take worst case scenario options only. The biggest inconvenience is the lack of mouth movement and the inability to show emotions. The phrase, 'I'm smiling on the inside' has been used a lot recently. Though I am wondering if this is what botox is like. Inability to mould the old face into showing emotions or feeling of any kind. Honestly, I try to smile and it looks worse than Sheldon's smile in 'The Big Bang Theory' Eesck! Not even joking. The poor kids. Went back to work on Thursday and couldn't even smile at my kids. Nightmare.

Luckily Kids are very accepting of anything and they haven't even seemed to notice too much is wrong. I think they can tell I'm delighted or cross or pissed off just by tone. They don't necessarily need to see my expression to know how I'm feeling. The best comment was from one of the older boys. I'd only been back a few minutes and instead of saying Helen, we've missed you, are you alright. (Would have been nice). I get, "Why weren't you at school yesterday?"

Sorry, I was recovering from surgery you cheeky little bugger. Ha ha.

Well I've managed to sleep through for the last two nights which I think has been a combination of drug haze and general exhaustion. Clearly traumatic dental surgery is the only way for me to sleep the whole night. I don't mind reverting back to getting up once or twice a night if I can just keep the rest of my teeth and need no more end of the world drilling and grinding by pestle and mortar.

I'm definitely getting more feeling back in the old mouth and I almost smiled today. Progress.

Anyhoo. Just made it home from work (the first part of this was written on my lunch break) and am contemplating a vege out. Struggling to move/think/anything at the moment.

Busy weekend on the horizon. Watch this space for the Segway report. Ha. Helen on a Segway. Could be disastrous!

Enjoy the sporadic rain and schizophrenic summer weather and fingers crossed for smiles by Sunday.