The second to last time I was in the ER they refused to give me one of the two things that helps me. There is only one cocktail of drugs that work on me when I'm sick like that, and it's Zofran and morphine. One or the other doesn't work. It has to be both. They didn't want to give me the morphine because they thought it was constipating me.
Yes, I know opioids constipate. I of all people should know that. But that didn't constipate me. If he was right, then I would have had to have been on morphine two days before my ER visit, and that's not possible. You need a doctor for morphine administered in a hospital. You can't legally get it otherwise, and if I was going to go score something on the street, it wouldn't be weak sauce like morphine.
But once an ER doc gets it in their head, they can't get it out. They're not good at thinking. If there's a way to put a bandaid on a bullet hole, they'll figure out the best way to do that, but to diagnose something a little more complicated than the common cold? They can't find their ass without a map and a flashlight, and even then they might stop and ask for directions.
So that's how I wound up with this flask of Lactulose, a super laxative.
I got the bottle, and when I got home I tried to open it. It's the kind of top where you push down and turn. Except it wasn't turning. I grabbed one of those rubber things you can use to open stuff, and that didn't work. I thought maybe I was still a little exhausted, so I decided to try again later.
When I did, no dice. It suddenly occurred to me that I'm no longer the guy people can go to to open stuff like jars. I used to be so good at opening difficult jars. Is this the new me? Too weak to open a fucking bottle of laxative?
I got frustrated and grabbed a knife. I started sawing at the neck of the bottle when I realized I was acting crazy. This was just another of life's indignities that I had to get used to if I intended to stick around long enough to really get old.
My brother was at work. My only recourse was to swallow my pride and go back to CVS to get someone there to open it.
The drive-thru line was atrocious, as it usually is when I'm in a hurry, but when I finally got to the window, the guy there took a swing at opening the bottle. And missed. I felt a small measure of victory, but not much. While this kid was in his prime, he was still kind of skinny.
Finally, after trial and error, he was able to get it open. The problem wasn't me. It turned out that Lactulose is so thick and sticky that it stuck the top on. He cleaned the bottle off and put a new top on, and I was able to easily open this fucking thing.
So I have a reprieve, I suppose. But the day will eventually come when I can no longer do something as simple as opening a goddam jar. And that day's not too far off in the future. I'm going to be 46 this year. In less than 20 years I'll be a senior citizen, and God's mercy on you when that happens . . .
Oh yeah, Lactulose really works. It's like an atom bomb. I spent the next few days on the toilet, and it almost felt like taking the bowel prep for a colonoscopy. Except it never went clear on me, and I wiped myself raw. So yeah, if you ever need a good explosive laxative, go with Lactulose.
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