Let me preface this story by saying that I have always had great respect for those who have beaten their addictions. I write this with a humorous edge because this event was caused by me being an idiot. Please take no offense.
I woke up Tuesday around 5AM feeling great. Well, great for me. Great like I was a little nauseated, but the pain wasn't too bad, so I decided to take two Tylenol instead of my Vicodin. Went through my day Tuesday without a problem. Nothing of note...lounging around, willing the radioactive spheres to do their work, marking up the LL Bean catalog with pants to order since all my pants fall down, very exciting stuff. Then 6:30PM hit. Suddenly all I could think about was taking a Vicodin. I mean, it was the only thing I could think about. I stared at my drug bag but mentally I knew I didn't need it for pain so I shouldn't take it. Then, and I don't know how it was possible, but I started thinking about taking a pill even more. And more. And the anxiety set in.
At this point I should note ~ I have been on Vicodin fairly steadily since December. That is why I don't drive (unless I am off it) and why I almost always have help at the house with the boys. I take very low doses and always as prescribed (it is the goody-two shoes in me). But at this point, my body is used to the Vicodin, even at the low dose.
Back to the tale...I chatted with my mom, a former nurse, and asked her if she thought it was possible I was going through withdrawal. She thought it was likely due to the amount of time I had been on the med. She told me to take a Vicodin. I said no. I didn't need it for pain and taking it (given my mental state at the time) seemed like admitting I was addicted to the pills.
Tuesday night was long. Restless legs, hot/cold spells, anxiety, stomach cramps. I texted with a friend whose husband has been through his own cancer battle ~ only to learn he was hospitalized to wean off his meds. Her advice: take the Vicodin. I still didn't take it.
At 8AM Wednesday morning I called the nurse at the cancer center. CRAP....she was not in until 8:30. Curled up into a little ball and called at 8:31 (I had to show a little restraint). Her voicemail picked up and I left a desperate, slightly crazed message for her. She called me right back and had me take a med I had on hand to calm me down a little. Then, after a few phone calls back and forth the decision was for me to take the Vicodin. I felt better within 30 minutes.
I really should have listened to my mother.
4 comments:
I know a number of people who have had serious medical issues who got inadvertently hooked on pain meds. It's good you've recognized the problem. It doesn't sound to me like you have a real addiction problem, but I imagine feeling like you need the medication just to feel normal is disconcerting. Heck, that's part of what got me to seek help with my alcoholism, when I wasn't looking to get drunk but rather had to drink to not feel withdrawal.
Sorry you have to deal with that in addition to everything else.
I'm asking Gwen for confirmation, but my guess is you always came home 10 minutes before curfew.
I'm so glad you felt good enough that you didn't want to take it! (Well, at least initially, LOL).
xoxo
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