Where I live and get my drugs
So last night was Day 1 for the Nerontin, a.k.a. Gabapentin. But first is a telling tale of where I live.
I got stuck for a half hour just to drop off my prescription at the Walgreen's drive-through while some drug-seeker addict tried to brow-beat the pharmacist's technician into giving her more Oxycodone over the tinny speaker. This woman, who pulled in front of me in line, was so obviously fucked up that I didn't see any more need to confront her after I laid on the horn.
When I came back to pick up the prescription, after walking past the creepy guys hanging out in front of the store, I had to wait again while another woman picked up her methadone and valium prescriptions and then made the pharmacy scan her entire teeming basket of groceries. I'll never go there again, but that's still where I have to live.
The drug experience itself was pretty unusual, but I must say that a few glasses of wine beforehand must have contributed. P told me I was waking in unusual fits of activity; I had been dreaming of foot races. I was pretty drowsy and unbalanced when I got up to go to The Hotel Room, but I slept pretty hard and woke pretty late (10:30, when I have to leave for work two hours later).
No lump in the throat, no drugged hangover, no feeling of empty sleep. All good signs.
I got stuck for a half hour just to drop off my prescription at the Walgreen's drive-through while some drug-seeker addict tried to brow-beat the pharmacist's technician into giving her more Oxycodone over the tinny speaker. This woman, who pulled in front of me in line, was so obviously fucked up that I didn't see any more need to confront her after I laid on the horn.
When I came back to pick up the prescription, after walking past the creepy guys hanging out in front of the store, I had to wait again while another woman picked up her methadone and valium prescriptions and then made the pharmacy scan her entire teeming basket of groceries. I'll never go there again, but that's still where I have to live.
The drug experience itself was pretty unusual, but I must say that a few glasses of wine beforehand must have contributed. P told me I was waking in unusual fits of activity; I had been dreaming of foot races. I was pretty drowsy and unbalanced when I got up to go to The Hotel Room, but I slept pretty hard and woke pretty late (10:30, when I have to leave for work two hours later).
No lump in the throat, no drugged hangover, no feeling of empty sleep. All good signs.
posted by Shaky | 7/08/2006 04:09:00 PM
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