A conversation between one of my closest friends (nameless) and myself…
Me: Hey, are you there?
Nameless Friend: Yep
Me: OMG, my mouth is KILLING me. I have never had a toothache before. Ibuprofen isn’t touching it.
Nameless Friend: You want me to ask [insert nameless friend’s boyfriend here] if he has any Percocet?
Me: (DING DING DING WE HAVE A WINNER!) Would you?
Nameless Friend: Yep
(a few minutes later)
Nameless Friend: Yep, he has some. How many do you want?
Nameless Friend: They expired last month, is that ok?
(It should be noted they could have expired two years ago, and I still would have taken them.)
Me: No problem, I will take them. (Mouth throbbing to the point of seeing stars)
Nameless Friend: You want me to drop them off at your house?
Are you freaking kidding me? She delivers? Hell, she would have made a hell of a drug dealer. Hell, if I were at home when she arrived, I’d even tip her.
Me: Oh, if you could that would be awesome!
Twenty minutes later…BAM, the contraband has been delivered. What I did not realize is that in the twenty minutes, the ibuprofen kicked in. All 800 milligrams of it. Splendid.
Fast forward to this morning. I’m searching the house of more ibuprofen, but apparently it is GONE (I could have sworn we had a huge bottle of it) and I am yet again in agonizing pain. I think to myself, no worries, I have three handy dandy Percocet, and THAT will take my worries away. I grab the baggie of illegal prescription drugs, take one out, and pop it in my mouth like a piece of candy. MMMMMMMM…YUMMY. Not really, but I would have eaten dirt if it would have made me feel better.
Fifteen minutes later…
OH MY GOD I NEED TO SIT DOWN. By this time, I am sweating, I feel like I am going to pass out, and I cannot put together a sentence. This can’t be good. What the hell? I’ve taken Percocet before, countless times before my back surgery, and it NEVER affected me like this. Holy hell, suddenly a coma was sounding like sweet relief. I sat down and waited for the wave of dizziness and nausea to pass. Then, it dawned on me…that one little word I totally forgot…DOSAGE. Now let’s think – nameless friend’s hunky boyfriend is about…wait for it…220 lbs.? He’s about 8’ tall, at least to me, and he certainly is not a human stick figure. And I am…wait for it…5’3” on a good day and about 135 lbs.? Yeah, I have just taken what is the equivalent of a horse pill of narcotics. I panic. I didn’t really feel like I was dying but I did feel like I was having an out of body experience. I really needed to get to work. I finished my blueberry smoothie (which was doing nothing for my stomach, by the way) and decided I could make the three miles to the office, which I did, thankfully. Upon my arrival at the office, I quickly sit down to try to make the room stop spinning, and called Nameless Friend to tell her of my “situation.” She hadn’t thought about dosage either. Apparently NO ONE had thought about it. I promptly tell her I have to go because I have to throw up in my office waste can. Lovely, now my office smells like blueberry scented vomit. Mother of God, can this day get any worse? I laid my head on my desk and tried to make the feeling stop. I was unsuccessful. I tried to explain the situation to my boss/friend, but was having issues because of my slurred speech. Something about blueberries, Percocet. He, in his usual manner, shook his head and laughed at me. He has come to expect anything but normal from me.
I did make my 11am dentist appointment (and I am proud to say I have no cavities and not really a reason for all the pain, other than the fact I needed a good cleaning.) Wonderful, I live for deep scale cleanings. By the way Ginger, my hygienist friend from high school, SAVE IT. I know what you are going to say.
I guess the moral of the story is, if you need to “borrow” prescription painkillers from a friend, you might want to cut those babies in half depending on the size. I wouldn’t recommend going through what I went through to anyone.
That is all. I really just wanted to share my pain. Thanks for listening!