My mom thought maybe excessive itching wasn't a normal side affect of Percoset and maybe I was allergic, (I may or may not have spoken to her via Skype, while stoned and using a jimmy-rigged fork on a stick to scratch myself excessively) which made me feel down-right indignant that Doug was standing idly by while I was itching to death which led to me guilt him (Doug) into calling the nurse who was like "yada yada" but also gave him a prescription for Tylenol with Codeine which he (Doug) immediately switched me too--to appease me {and my mother}, eliminate the itching, and--as a bonus--prevent his wife [me] from becoming a drug-addicted junkie. (I was like, "pa-sha!").
In Doug's defense, he's not medically daft. He just didn't think I was allergic because I had no hives and my throat wasn't closing. Luckily, my mom was there to say "What ev! Get that girl off the Percoset!" So he did.
(But then I was like "ow! this isn't as strong! Give me back the good stuff!" --But he didn't.)
Anyway, that was two days ago and I've slowly been coming back from the living dead since then. More hours of actual consciousness, less scratching. And yes, I am pooping again now. Thanks for asking! (What? You didn't ask? Tough. My blog!)
In fact, yesterday, I felt so good/foolishly optimistic/bored/stir crazy, that I said "YES! Let's go to the Snow Festival! I feel fine! I'm up for it!" (lies.)
But more about that tomorrow.
But really, being drugged out of your gourd does have it's advantages. For example, I love to sleep. And I've gotten to do lots of it. Granted, the dreams weren't the best and some were down-right scary, but on the upside, I've written numerous songs, poems and touching soliloquies in my sleep! No matter I couldn't remember any of them when I woke up. I know they were good and Abraham Lincoln, (who was with me when I wrote them,) also knows they were good. And that's somethin'!
Also, I haven't had to do a dang thing around the house or solve a single little boy dilemma or do a single errand or church assignment or anything. (Note to self: re-start Percoset.)
The down side is, tonight when Doug left to take Maxwell to piano, Gabe cried "DA-DAHHHH!" for -like- 10 minutes. Not having seen me much for a week evidently led him to forget that I'M the one who pushed the little sucker from MY BIRTH CANAL!!! (Over sharing again? Sorry, but again...tough.)
So anyway, I suppose my drug vacation is over.
I've got to go brain-wash Gabe now.
See you tomorrow.
