I had my Botox treatment on Wednesday, as I previously blogged.
"How was it?" a couple of people have asked. "What was it like?"
Answer: I have no idea. I was out like a light. Dr. Pain is kind enough to heavily sedate his patients before injecting them with botulinum toxin.
I know I said I would receive 21 injections of Botox, but I was wrong.
I got 31.
A few of them are bruised, but not badly, and fortunately not on my face. And, yes, I can move my eyebrows, though not as high as they used to move. The muscles of my upper forehead, however, are completely inert, and only move when rudely shoved upwards by their lower counterparts.
I don't know if it was because I slept in a funny position, last night, or what the deal is, but my neck is killing me today. It hurts like a sonofagun, and I either have to let my head drop completely, or hold it up perfectly straight. Anything in between is agony. I bet it's a Botox/bad-sleeping-position one-two punch.
The good news is that I was pretty much completely recovered (until this morning) within 24 hours of the procedure. No, I haven't noticed whether it's caused a decrease in my migraines. I did have one this morning, though.
In other news, I went to my grad school orientation, along with all the other newbies. There were about 16 of us there, and half seemed to be in the Level I program (a three year course of study), and half of us were in the Level II program (a two year course of study).
I'm a Level II.
I was also the only one who had worked in my chosen field. At all. No one had even done summer internships!
As a consequence, they all clustered around me, asking me questions about what it's like in architecture offices (um, not like studio), whether architecture is a stable field of employment (I had to fight to keep from laughing), and where I worked.
When I dropped Oldsmobile's name - usually an attention-getter - nobody blinked.
And did I mention that I was old, compared to my fellow students? Because I am. Very. Most of them are 23-ish. I did not share my age, but at the youngest, they had to calculate that I'm at least 26 (I'm 28, soon to be 29).
And they also seem to be under the delusion that there is no partying involved in architecture.
One lovely young lady was completely shocked when I told her of the typical routine in my undergrad days:
Studio Jury Friday.
Bar immediately after Jury.
To a friend's house immediately after bar (with more booze in tow).
Pass out on said friend's living room floor with several other architecture students.
Wake up at 10 Saturday morning.
Go back to studio.
Poor little advertising student: she wouldn't have made it with my undergrad crowd.
We would have eaten her alive.