If You Want Drugs Just Say No
If you want drugs just say No. Say it loud and proud, like the drug naysayer you are. Drugs are like sex now; the more you resist, the more the doctors will try to push them on you.
Tell your doc you don’t like taking “too many drugs” and you will find yourself the recipient of a handful of scrips you can take to your pharmacist for filling ASAP. (Pharmacist: A Latin word meaning “Yes, I’m a drug lord, but what I’m doing is legal, and I get big money for it. Neener, neener.”)
I’m a drug naysayer. I have to be coaxed and fondled–I mean convinced–by my doctors to take any drugs. They call in the prescription to the pharmacy right then and there, or hand me a scrip for a new “wonder drug” and I go home and study the drug forums to find out how it affected other people.
Forums are places on the internet where people go to compare notes:
“I took this drug and right away, my dog died! Do NOT take this drug.”
“I was taking this drug for a year before I realized I no longer lived on the same street and hadn’t for quite some time.”
“If you take this drug and wake up one morning in the middle of a park, completely naked, with a frosting horn thingy sticking out of your mouth, or anywhere else, don’t say you haven’t been warned.”
Well, these kinds of personal and heart-wrenching stories tend to put the kibosh on my enthusiasm for taking any of those devil drugs. I’m way too old to be messing with frosting horns.
Not only that, some drugs seem to cause the very thing they’re supposed to cure. Or they cause something much worse. If you take one for depression, be on the lookout for suicidal thoughts: “This drug for depression may cause depression and suicidal thoughts. Pay no attention to these crazy thoughts. Increase dosage immediately.”
I present a challenge to doctors. They don’t recognize my sort of patient, and it makes them itch to know I don’t like taking Meloxicam, or Trazedone, or Ozone, or Nicodin, or Vicorineormarine. When they really begin to itch, they need to take something for it.
Docs are always taking my blood pressure and such like. My BP is always perfect, along with most other indicators of good health. But you can’t always go by that; I was feeling pretty lousy for several weeks a few months back, and my doc, after looking at my blood tests, said I was in perfect health. Couldn’t tell me why I felt lousy, until of course we’d ordered a bunch of expensive tests.
I finally took the Gabapentin I’d had sitting around for a week. I was convinced it was the worst thing I could take if I wanted to see 50. (I’m way past that, but that’s neither here nor there.) After I took it as prescribed, I had an awesome two nights of sleep. I never woke up in between, but nothing’s perfect.
I don’t know if I can chalk up my great nights’ sleep to the trigger point injections I got, or the drug. Who cares? If I wake up in the middle of the park naked, with the frosting horn thingy stuck anywhere, I will still count myself lucky.
When I went to see the doc the other day for the trigger points, having jacked my back in the pool during a work out (Yeah, I know; the pool is supposed to be SAFE. Ha. Haven’t you heard about pool sharks?) his physician’s assistant gave me a scrip for something called Nucenta, or Nuventa. These names sound like new compact cars, or search engines for travel.
Like Trulicity. I mean, really. Does that sound like a drug to you? It sounds like the name of a Swedish lady with braids in a commercial for dairy products. “Trulicity says Eat My Cheese and Enjoy Good Health!”
I went home and read about Nuventa. Just reading about it made me frightened! The warnings said I shouldn’t even read them if I wanted to see 50. (Oh, yeah. I used that joke already. See what drugs will do to you?)
The web page on this stuff was chock full of warnings; warnings so dire, they made the campaign propaganda we went through last year sound like child’s play. Death wasn’t even the worst thing that can happen to you if you take this stuff. Death is like a walk in the park compared to that!
And we all know what we’re likely to find in the park. You’ve been warned.
Gigi, I heard that if you overdose on chapstick there could be consequences depending how pronohnced. Could be extacy or more likely pregnancy. Doctors or pharmacists won’t tell you that.
Chapstick, huh? They, the gubbinment, is putting ‘things’ in it! I knew it!
Gigi, I must apologise for my very unclear comment about chapstick.
It should have looked like this:-
“Gigi, I heard that if you overdose on chapstick there could be consequences depending how pronounced. Could be ecstacy or more likely pregnancy. Doctors or pharmacists won’t tell you that.”
So my effort at a risque comment fell flat on its face. It was supposed to be a play on one of my favourite Americanisms “chapstick” (we call it lip balm) which I have always found hilarious because of the way its pronounced with the “t” sounding more like a “d”.
Sorry I had to explain. Dosen’t sound so funny now.
John, you are too funny. Whenever we have to explain a joke it isnt’ funny, anymore. Oh, well. I’m posting it all anyway!
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