Well, I feel like posting the big one again.
I was introduced to painkillers when my mom died of Cancer. She told me to get her bag of meds out of the house. She worked with an addict who would come get em. Looking back I should have let her. She tore my mom's house apart. My mom said we might need some of them for the funeral anyway, meaning an ativan or something the day of the funeral. I kept that bag, she had everything in there, and I took em all. I somehow managed to get out of that one.
In Dec '05 I went to the ER with horrible back pains. The doctor did an x-ray and asked if I'd been in an accident. I got an MRI and it turned out I had heriated disks. Well no wonder it hurt. So I was prescribed through the past few years nonstop. Starting with the lower dose going up to a high dose of hydrocodone. I started no being able to leave the pills alone. My husband would put the pharmacy bag on the table and I'd pour a handful in my mouth and stash some for later. If I saw em out, same. Husband tried locking em up, I figured the combination. I went on like that for the past three years, taking up to 15 a day, everyday. I ate em till I was sick, didn't care.
Finally I talked to a friend who's a fellow addict and as we talked they made sense. Only fellow addicts do, been there done that. It really touched me, and decided not to abuse the hydrocodone again. Going on my 3rd day being opiate free. Can't wait to get to this doctor and have the recovery begin.