Me and Marilyn.

I had a molar pulled Tuesday morning. The oral surgeon was quite deft. I don't think I was in the chair 40 minutes, and most of that was spent waiting for the anesthesia to kick in.

Which isn't to say I'm not in pain right now. It's expected. Teeth are like bones; they are the hardest substances in the body, and molars are connected solidly to the jawbone via deep roots. So naturally ripping one out is going to leave an owie. That's why the surgeon prescribed me a week's worth of 800 mg ibuprofen. If that doesn't manage the pain, I also got acetaminophen and codeine. (I consider that my "Break Glass in Case of Emergency" pill bottle.)

I take one of those ibuprofen every 4-6 hours, trying to time it so it doesn't wear off when I'm asleep. Waking up in pain is the worst. I have a high pain threshold, but I'm also no masochist. The more comfortable I am, the faster I will heal and the sooner all this will be behind me.

Tuesday morning I took the ibuprofen first thing. Then I fed the cats -- they're each on their own diet -- before downing my own meds and vitamins for the day (which I keep in one of those pill containers with the days of the week marked). Then I took the ibuprofen.

Huh? What? I just took 1600 mg of ibuprofen, or 8 hours worth, in a matter of minutes. Because I wasn't paying attention. I read all the literature that came with the prescription and everything I could find online. While what I did was certainly unwise and not something I should make a habit of, I was not in any real danger. Some doctors prescribe 1600 mg dose every 4 hours after surgery similar to mine. But I must be careful not to do this ever again. 

Which leads me to Marilyn. I have been reading about her almost since I learned how to read. While I believe she died by her own hand, I don't think she killed herself. I think she woke up groggy and, desperate for sleep, grabbed some pills. Then having forgot what she'd taken, she grabbed some more. I saw for myself how easy that is to do. I don't think she was miserable. 20th Century Fox had capitulated and was willing to have her finish Something's Got to Give. Joe DiMaggio certainly believed they had reconciled. Whether Marilyn would have actually walked down the aisle with him we'll never know. But there's ample evidence she'd given him every indication she was open to rekindling their romance.

So here she was, a woman about to embark on a new chapter. She had stared down a major studio and they blinked. One of America's heroes was insisting he loved her. She was also an addict. She had a ridiculously high tolerance for prescription medication and liquor. She made a mistake. She died.

Shit happens.