I wrote that last journal entry just before my pair of Lortabs kicked in, and I’ve been next to worthless ever since.
“Kicked in” is the right word choice. A team of metabolism commandos kicked the door down, and then kicked in my skull. I shall now describe the symptoms of onset as clinically as I can.
0 seconds: “hmmm… my tummy feels funny. I think I’m going to barf.”
10 seconds: “nope, not going to barf. Is it hot in here?”
20 seconds: “why am I pouring sweat?”
22 seconds: I call out to Sandra, but she can’t hear me.
25 seconds: I hit “Submit” and send off my Live Journal Entry
30 seconds: I stagger away from the computer, and Sandra hears me.
60 seconds: I’m back in my bed.
120 seconds: I’m asleep.
Over the last 6 hours we’ve discovered that every hour or so I’ll wake up and get maybe 10 minutes of euphoria mixed with “I need to be doing something.” I’ll come down to the computer, read stuff, and then the cold sweat starts in earnest, and I end up getting escorted back to my bed.
There are two pieces of good news.
1) I assure you, there is no danger whatsoever of me getting addicted to Lortab. I get a better endorphin rush off of capsaicin.
2) I can lift my arm forward now. The episode where I could not lift it was last night. Something healed up a bit while I slept last night and this morning.
Ooooh. I think my 10 minutes are up. More later.