My first and only overdose. [Fingers crossed.]

First of all, stop freaking out. That's my job. It's not even that big of a deal. Except... it almost was. It almost was the be all, end all of my whole life.

Damn. Maybe you should freak out a little. I sure did. Before I make a terrible situation worse, let me explain what happened and why. It started last Wednesday...

I woke up in pain - serious pain. The pain was coming from inside my mouth, just like the moans. After some careful investigation in the bathroom mirror, I identified the problem - part of my molar was missing.

"How the fuck does that happen?"

It doesn't really matter. Who cares? Not me. Not really. I did care about the new world of pain I had awoken in that afternoon. I got online and looked up my benefits package. I used the dental provider's website to locate several dentists in my immediate area. They were all closed that day, but the pain had stopped so... I stopped caring and ended the search. The next day toward the end of my shift, the pain came back. I purchased some orajel and that did a decent enough job of dulling the pain. Unfortunately, it was around the same time I had woken up in pain the day previous so again I couldn't contact a local dentist to do anything about it rather than simply survive each passing moment. On Friday, I woke up early to schedule an appointment with anyone who could see me and as immediately as possible. July is a bad month for dentistry apparently, because of the dentists that actually work a full week (What sort of professional can just work Mon-Thurs? Are you serious?) most of them were on vacation or planning to go on vacation the next week. I was not waiting two weeks to get this sorted. Thankfully, I managed to find someone who could and would see me on Monday.

I won't talk about the visit, although I will say this: My dentist is a condescending, spiteful cunt - which I expected - but I found her bedside manner amusing, refreshing, and slightly appealing - which I had not expected.

Anyway, she set up an appointment for the operation and prescribed some much needed pain medication. Which was very welcome since even the strongest formula of orajel had ceased to numb the throbbing pain in my jaw and my next appointment wasn't for another week.

So, life is not exactly good, but I'm dealing with it and it's better than it could be - all things considered. Which brings us to Friday night and I'm trying to finish my paperwork so I can leave for the night. That's when I started to feel tired, but it was a different kind of exhaustion than I'm used to encountering with my work schedule and ridiculous lifestyle. It felt like the life was draining out of me. I also felt like I might vomit. I tried, actually, several times. When I left work, all I really wanted was to go home and pass out. But, something about the way I felt scared me senseless. I had this feeling that if I did pass out, I might not wake up. But, first things first, I wanted to go home and feel like I was dying rather than keep doing that at work.

Driving while under the influence of prescription drugs is no joke, especially at 2am and on winding, mountainous back roads. For the entire drive, I had no exact idea as to where the road or even my lane actually was. The lines on the road converged and merged and shattered and... I felt like vomiting again. It was like driving into a laser light show. It was terrible, fascinating, and entirely dangerous. I haven't a clue how I managed to find my way and keep my vehicle on the road in front of me. But, I've said it before: I'm a stubborn bastard and there's just no stopping me from doing what I want. All I wanted was to go home and die in peace as far removed from anyone who might know me as possible. I kept wishing I was anonymous and then I thought of AA and giggled until my stomach protested.

There are a series of hills and winding curves leading up the final hill upon which stands a stop sign before the final descent into the parking lot for my apartment building. At that stop sign, I put my jeep into park, unfastened my seat belt, opened my door, and vomited repeatedly. When I was done, I shut the door, refastened my seat belt, put my jeep back in drive, and drove on. My eye sight immediately improved and I was once again capable of logic and reason and thought.

"Holy shit, I almost had myself an overdose. But, damn it, I'm still alive. I am still alive."

Although, I realize that was not much to be proud of considering the ends not fully justifying the means. That whole ordeal was fairly reckless of me. How simply my life could have ended at any of those moments. If not the pills, then the automobile accident... I could have died twenty different ways that night.

But, I didn't. I have, however, made every effort to keep very careful track of just how many of these pills I take and when. The recommended use is 1 pill every 4-6 hours as needed for pain. My actual use has become 1 pill daily regardless of additional need for pain. I can live with some pain considering the alternative.

In closing, there's nothing like almost dying to make you feel completely alive again.