The Family that Pops Pills Together . . .

As I discussed earlier, I have recently received a prescription for Vicodin. I’ve never taken Vicodin before and was concerned about how it would affect me. Needless to say, after taking it for six days, I decided I was better off without the Vicodin.

On the first evening of my injury, I took one Vicodin at around 6 pm and another around 9 pm. (The bottle said I could take 1-2 every six hours.) It was around 9 pm that I decided it would be a good idea to soak my ankle in a container of ice water, as recommended by my doctor. While trying to get the container off of the countertop, I knocked over a plate which promptly hit my good foot, bounced off, hit the ceramic tile floor, and shattered into a million pieces. I then abandoned my quest to soak my ankle in ice water and went back to the couch.

After a few minutes, I decided it would be a good thing to organize my bills/mail that had accumulated over the long weekend I was away. (Apparently, I have a hard time with the injury = rest & relaxation thing.) I sorted my mail into several piles - bills to pay, checks to deposit, and garbage. By this time, the Vicodin high was feeling pretty good and I thought it would be a good time to go to bed. I threw away the garbage and put the bills and checks in my briefcase.

Or so I thought.

Vicodin makes me very foggy, even when it is technically out of my system. I wasn’t taking it during the day, but even the one pill at night made me feel slow during the day. So, I decided this weekend to stop taking it. That was when I decided to reorganize my mail, including the bills and checks I sorted several days beforehand.

And that was when I realized I had thrown away a check for $800 from my dad, which was repayment for airplane tickets I purchased for him and my mom a couple of weeks ago. (While my dad loves to shop online, he has an inherent fear of places like Priceline or CheapTickets and will not shop at those sites. So when I told him I had found a good deal on tickets, he made me purchase them.) Not only had I thrown it away, I had thrown it away and the garbage men had already picked up the garbage. Damn!

So, last night I had to call my dad and ask him to send me another check. Since "The Closer" was on until 9 pm, I called them around 9:15 pm. It took my dad six rings to get to the phone, which is unusual because he always answers it as if he was sitting on the phone (because he usually is). When he finally answered, the answering machine came on and I had to identify myself three times (by name, I might add) before he realized who it was.

Dad: I can’t turn the machine off . . . could you call back?

Me: OK. (I hang up the phone, think that's weird and call back)

Dad: Hello?

Me: Yeah, it’s me.

Dad: I can’t turn off this god damn machine . . . hold on. (fumbles with answering machine for a few seconds.)

Dad: OK - what’s up?

Me: Oh, nothing much but I need a new check for those airplane tickets.

I then explained at length what had happened with the Vicodin and my stupidity, mistaking my dad's silence on the other end for irritation with me for being so irresponsible.

Dad: What check?

Me: The check for $800 you sent me for the airplane tickets.

Dad: I sent you a check for $800?

Me: Yes, for the airplane tickets.

Dad: To you?

Me: Yes!

Dad: Did it bounce?

Me: NO! I threw it away on accident. I need a new one.

Dad: For how much?

Me: $800.

Dad: Let me check my register. . . .

Long pause.

Dad: You haven’t cashed it yet, according to my bank.

Me: I know! I threw it away! I need a new one so I can cash it!

Long pause.

Dad: You know what . . . I just took my sleeping pill right before you called. Could you email me about this tomorrow?

Me: Sure, goodnight.

Well, at least I know he'll understand about the Vicodin-fog thing.