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Ok so I gave my little sob story about going to the hospital, just kidding it wasn’t sob.. a sister was close to getting amputated; but you know what I mean. I told the woe is me version. Step into the lab and let’s get into the juicy bits.


After I was told that I was able to keep my limbs, the stay became therapeutic for me- no cleaning the house, no cooking dinner, pushing a button to be serviced, and the MORPHINE. I am not a drug user or as the generation before me used to call them a junkie- I am not a junkie of any kind however; my consensus is that the world would be at peace if there was some kind of low dosage of morphine that was safe to take occasionally. I was in pain – so much pain but as soon as they gave me that morphine the world was a better place. I smiled, talked, titled my head and giggled despite my inward pain. No lie I was like YASSS!! (SMH) I kind of feel ashamed for feeling such a sense of euphoria even as I type this. After all, I don’t have an addictive personality and don’t want to encourage it, but I’m speaking from a first time experience. At one point I asked for Tylenol to curb my “appetite” but the RN instead offered me MORPHINE, I felt horrible for saying yes because by this time the pain was tolerable but it was good, good to escape the pain if only for 4 days.

I’m kind of sort of a big deal; Support me here, here, or here.