Tuesday, October 23, 2007

It's the Drugs, Man.

My oral surgeon had prescribed some serious painkillers following my implant procedure, but after a few days of taking them I was feeling...odd. Tired, spacey, headache-y. Crazy, vivid, anxiety-provoking dreams that combined my marriage with my last relationship and episodes from "Sex and The City" (Aidan Shaw! I need an Aidan Shaw! What am I doing?!?!?) Last took one on Sunday morning before deciding that ibuprofen is just fine for me.

As the lingering effects..well, lingered, I decided to do a little Internet research on my drug.

Yeah. You know, I might be in the minority, but I don't care to see the words "narcotic" and "withdrawal" next to anything I've ingested. I mean, I've never even smoked pot. I also have every side-effect in the book when I take medication, so I'm not keen on taking anything major league. I once took a single anti-motion-sickness pill and slept for the better part of 48 hours.

Not only that, but there are certain things you'd think they'd mention, such as, "don't take any alcohol if you've taken this because you can, you know, DIE."

Am I naive? I mean, for me, taking narcotics is a big freaking deal, and neither my doctor nor the pharmacist thought to mention the possible side-effects, such as waking today to feel so bad that I called in sick and slept for a full seven hours. (Remember, I last took one over 48 hours ago.)

How people do this shit recreationally is beyond me.

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