Overdose.

I can’t figure out if my wife is trying to kill me, or if my near death incidents due to drug overdoses are simply accidents. I don’t have a large life insurance policy, so I can’t figure out why she would want me dead, but there have been incidents that would make a person wonder.

One such incident occurred when I had developed an extremely agonizing kidney stone. After a flying trip to the hospital, I was given a powerful pain medication and sent on my way. My wife, who is a nurse, took charge of my pill bottle. Upon arriving home, she handed me my first dose to take before the morphine that I had been given at the hospital had a chance to wear off.

Since there was nothing for me to do other than take the pain medication and wait for the kidney stone to run its course, we decided not to cancel the dinner plans we had made with another couple earlier that week.

By the time we had arrived at the restaurant where our dinner engagement was to take place, the pain medication had begun to take effect. I not only was pain-free, but I felt good. I felt REALLY good. We greeted our friends in the parking lot and went inside.

The hostess who looked remarkably like a female version of the Joker from Batman, showed us to our table where a waiter who looked remarkably like the Penguin brought us menus and drinks.

It was at this time that I suddenly realized what a funny guy I was. I made myself laugh just thinking about it. Everyone else was remarkably funny as well, so I laughed even harder. My wife gave me a frown, a very funny frown.

I could hear the voice of our friend, only it sounded like his head was in a steel barrel submerged somewhere in the sea.

“Is he alright?” the voice said.

“He’s fine,” said the walrus that was now seated between me and my wife.

Removing my shirt, I wrapped it tightly around my head and ears to block out the ringing and the obnoxious sound of the Christmas carol singing unicorns. The last thing I remember was biting the waiter’s leg from under the table.

 

As I slowly opened my eyes, they focused on one of our friends leaning over me and fanning my face with her small handbag. I could tell that I was in the passenger seat of our car in the parking lot of the restaurant.

“His eyes are opening!”

I turned to see my wife looking intently at my bottle of pain pills and talking to the husband of the woman fanning my face.

“He’s lucky to be alive! He’s only supposed to be taking two pills every four hours,” I heard my friend say emphatically to my wife.

“I thought it said four pills every two hours!” answered my wife’s voice.

As I recalled later that day, I remembered thinking it was odd that a prescription required me to take four pills all at once. I don’t ever remember taking more than two of any medication at a time.

My wife had nearly killed me.

Now if this had been the only time that medication handed out by my wife had almost killed me, it would be easier to assume that it was a simple mistake. But a very similar incident occurred just a few months later.

My wife and I had always dreamed of taking an Alaskan cruise and this was the year that we were finally able to afford to do it. So along with a few other friends of ours, we booked our trip. To begin the cruise meant taking a flight from Detroit to Seattle. This presented a problem, as I do not like flying at all.

As the day of our flight grew closer, I became more and more panicked. My wife decided to talk to my doctor about my phobia, and he prescribed a rather powerful anti-anxiety medication to make the trip less stressful for both me and my wife who would be sitting next to me.

On the morning we were due to fly out to Seattle, we arrived at the airport and found our places in the luggage check-in line. My nervousness was beginning to make me sweat and act in a fashion that was described by my wife as “flakey.” While we stood waiting, my wife handed me one of the pills which I quickly swallowed.

The pill had definitely calmed my anxiety. I experienced the entire flight in slow motion, or at least the parts of the flight that I was not unconscious. The drug seemed like a bit of over kill, but they did get me to Seattle without a complete nervous breakdown.

After an amazing week-long vacation that went by entirely too fast, we found ourselves once again waiting in an amazingly long line at the airport. And once again, I began to feel nervous and flakey.

“Do you want a whole one?” my wife asked me referring to the medication.

“Yes!” I replied hoping it would take the edge off.

I quickly took the pill and continued our hour long wait in the security screening line.

I was surprised at how much faster the tranquilizer took effect compared to the morning of our flight out to Seattle. I soon found it difficult to stand in line without swaying.

“Wow, I must be tired. It seems like the pill is hitting me a little harder than last time,” I said to my wife in a voice that sounded like a record being played at too slow of a speed.

“Well yeah, you only took a half of one last time.”

I suddenly became aware of my wife using the word “whole” when she asked me if I wanted a “whole” pill . . . as opposed to the half pill I took a week ago. The half pill had bordered on too much. Now I had taken a whole pill and I still had to stand in line for at least an hour before we could board the plane.

I turned towards my wife with heavy eyes and informed her that I may be in trouble. The now familiar sound of Christmas carols began to fill the air as the unicorns floated down from the ceiling and formed a circle around me. I tried sitting on one our larger suitcases when the line wasn’t moving, but I kept fading out, only to return when the large man behind me would smack me in the head for leaning and drooling on him. The unicorns were joined by Richard Nixon who was wearing a beautiful sun dress and together they kept me entertained with their festive music.

By the time we neared the security check point, one of our friends who had accompanied us on the cruise had found an airport wheelchair to push me in as we moved up the line because it was easier than dragging me. I sat and happily sang Silent Night with the unicorns and faded in and out of consciousness.

Finally reaching the security screening check point, the man checking passengers’ identification looked down at me and asked, “Is he ok? Do I need to call the medics?”

“Oh I’m wonderful,” I heard myself say, “I’m on drugs and my wife is trying to kill me.”

Fortunately, I faded away at this point, and slept blissfully through the additional two hours of questioning that my statement had caused us.

Now I suppose I could just assume that another dosage miscalculation had taken place, but two, in the same year? Until I can determine whether my wife is out to get me or not, I am assuming full and complete control of all my medication.

If she doesn’t actually want me dead, she must certainly be gaining some sort of amusement by sending me to sing with the unicorns.

7 thoughts on “Overdose.

  1. Hysterical. My default mode is to side with your wife. And while I think that perhaps you should question when she gives you medication? Caveat: I know you are probably exaggerating…..A LOT. But I can hear her say to you “Don’t you think you’re old enough to be responsible for your own medication?”

    Liked by 1 person

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