I always try to do something with those four extra hours. Those four wonderful, free hours. On Friday 6/22 I thought maybe I'd go see the new Jurassic Park movie. Or wash clothes when I know I'd have the laundry room to myself.
Instead, I just got high and fell asleep.
Thursday I was, literally, stuck in place for about four hours. I was working to a crazy tight deadline. I didn't get up and walk around periodically, nor did I keep chugging water -- two things I know I'm supposed to do. Consequently, Thursday night, my kidney stone became irritated. And it irritated me to the point of OW!
I woke up feeling a pinch. I wanted to stay home and soak some more, but I had to go to work. I was afraid the pain would linger and get worse. So I popped one of those "break glass in case of emergency" Vicodin I have in my purse. It didn't complete obliterate the discomfort so I took a couple Advil on top of it.
My head was thick-thick-thick. But it was also only for a few hours, just while I tied up some loose ends on my four-hour Summer Friday.
On the way home from the train, I started to hurt again. I treated myself to lunch -- clam chowder and a pulled pork sandwich -- and popped another pill. It had been more than seven hours since the morning dose. I got home and fell asleep for about four hours. So that the summer Friday wasn't a total waste, I did head on over the grocery store and bank, and was then able to mark two errands off my list.
I understand the appeal of Vicodin. It's interesting to walk around with a twinge, knowing that if it wasn't for the meds it would be a distracting, awful pain. But I was desperately tired and found it hard to concentrate first at work, then on my book as I ate my lunch.
And lest you think I'm on my way to ending up like Marilyn Monroe, Judy Garland or Whitney Houston ... I've only taken 15 pills in the last month.
My goal is prevention -- to stop the attack before it starts. That's far preferable to masking the pain.