What Happens When a Doctor Gives the Wrong Person Narcotics

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I really have a shitload I want to unload here, it's just hard. You know, how much to share, that sort of thing.

Here it goes. I don't give a fuck anymore. This is more for me than it is for you.

I've been struggling with some prescription medications for the last year. I guess it started when my Mom had her back surgery last year. I stole a couple of her pain pills, and that was it. I was on a roll.

My own PCP knows all about my past, but she totally thought I had my shit together and she gave it no thought when I asked for Vicodin. I just told her I had some back pain. Later, last winter, she gave me cough medication with codeine when I was sick.

I was also taking a non-narcotic pain pill called Tramadol. Even though it is a non-narcotic medication, it works in the same way opiates work, latching onto my opiate receptors, giving me a slight buzz that I definitely liked. This is a pill I don't need to have anything to do with EVER again in this lifetime. They made me insane.

But I kept taking them because, hey, they are NON-narcotic ya know, and my PCP gave them to me whenever I wanted.

Everything came to a head at the end of July. I told Dominic everything. My emotions were all over the place. I was wrecking friendships and lashing out at people I loved. I was on my way to bigger and better drugs and I knew that if it didn't stop like rightfuckingnow, I could be back to sticking needles in my arm.

I am not stupid. I saw it in NA and AA all the fucking time. People with 10+ years clean, and all of the sudden they are back on the street, back on dope. I went back to a few meetings, talked to people, got myself under control, and told my PCP to never, ever give me any Tramadol or Vicodin ever again. I made an actual appointment with her just to tell her face to face: DO NOT GIVE ME NARCOTICS.

I've been doing just fine up until two weeks ago. The CX cough I was experiencing after my race was out of hand. I couldn't stop coughing. I couldn't talk, we left the race early, my inhaler wasn't working and neither was the OTC cough stuff. It was a Sunday, so the on-call Doc called me in some cough medicine to help suppress the cough.

When I picked up the bottle I was shocked to see that the medicine had codeine in it. They should know from the computer system NOT to give me narcotics. But did you think I was going to hand them back the bottle and say "no, thanks?"

Fuck no. Shit, my dog just died anyways.

I took the rx'ed amount and ended up wasted. High as a mother fucking kite.

And taking opiates of any sort will throw me into a tailspin of obsessing about how and when I can get more.

The last couple weeks have been a struggle. I am still coughing. I've had one breathing function test, only to learn that they will have to do a second breathing function test at the end of the month. I skipped last weekend's CX race but I am still coughing on and off. Regular workouts don't really make me cough, it's just those anaerobic efforts that a CX race is all about.

So there ya have it.

Am I embarrassed? You bet.
Am I ashamed? Hell yes.

But it happened.

There's nothing I can do about it now but try to make sure it doesn't happen again.

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