I'm Allergic to Percocet

Some people might call me strong. In reality, I'm a big fat cry baby - you just never see it. Case in point, this last Tuesday night I tripped in my dining room. I was watering my herbs sitting in the windows, and stepped on something, then tripped over it. What happened next? I fell back against the wall thinking I could brace myself and ended up accidentally slamming my arm (which at that point was not in its cast because I was getting ready for bed) on the corner on a wall, in the spot where I just had surgery.

I almost fell over the dining table getting off the wall, and my husband came running over to see what was wrong. In that two second time period from tripping to slamming, I had burst into tears and was screaming from the pain. I'm hysterical when I'm caught off guard like this, and I tend to babble and mumble inaudible things because I can't hear anything over the pain. So, he's trying to get me to tell him what happened, and I end up screaming at him that I tripped and slammed my arm on the wall.

Almost instantly, my arm began to balloon in an area the size of a pumice stone - I mean, it wasn't my whole arm. It was just the area that got slammed that was irritated. I didn't break skin, and I still have no external bruising (for some strange reason) but it is incredibly painful to the point where I lose feeling in my arm. I'm not supposed to ice my arm per doctor's orders, but we iced it for 30 minutes, and I took an OxyContin. Then, I proceeded to NOT FALL ASLEEP. (Big sigh)

The next morning, my husband left for work and left me with our German daughter, who missed most of the debacle the night before. She knew it happened, but I was ushered straight into the bedroom, so she had no idea how bad it was. When I ended up getting out of bed at around 10am, she asked me if I was okay. I thought I was so I took my morning medicines like normal, had a breakfast of leftovers from the night before, and then took a Hydrocodeine.

In less than two hours later, I was flying high as a kite, feeling sick to the depths of my stomach. I HATE that feeling. I tried calling my doctor to see if I needed to get it looked at early, to find out he's on vacation until Monday, and my next appointment with him is on Monday anyway. I remember my husband called to check in on me, and I was crying on the phone that I was high and that I didn't like it and that I needed to throw up - or something. I was running back and forth to the bathroom thinking my meager breakfast was coming up every time, and getting disappointed that my stomach would just end up gurgling for a minute straight. So, I ate 4 Tums and within 10 minutes was puking my guts out.

That's when I gave up and went to bed. I spent the next 4.5 hours trying to sleep, failing, and puking. I couldn't even keep water down. I just lay there, miserable, getting incredibly sore in my neck and hips, unable to move.

At 5 I had to give a piano lesson, and so I forced myself to get up. My German daughter had spent the afternoon out and about, and was back from her adventures, playing with the cat in the office. I jerkily got the house ready for my student, feeling absolutely disgusting. I couldn't just call off the lesson. I forced myself to remain upright and in control of my body. I made it through about 15 minutes of the lesson before I started to feel hot sweats and the tar pit stomach. By 30 minutes, I was barely holding it together.  At 45 minutes of rocking back and forth, trying not to puke or pass out from the sickness and heat, I went and got my German daughter and had her run flash cards with the student, saying that I was going to the bathroom.

I went into my bedroom and bathroom, and because of the air conditioning it was already really cool in there. Instantly I started to feel less like passing out and a little more like putting my head in the toilet. I ran my hands in ice cold water and splashed my face. I gripped the side of the sink and willed myself to make it through the last 10 minutes of the lesson. I don't know how I did it, but I made it through, and immediately after they left, I was in my bathroom with my head in the toilet.

When my husband came home, he blamed himself for giving me the medicine. Now see, I'm highly allergic to Percocet - and OxyContin is a type of Percocet. It's an opiate narcotic that causes me to uncontrollably vomit for hours or even days. It's dangerous to my body. My surgery in 2011 proved my inability to tolerate the drug. I spent a week unable to keep down anything liquid or solid and felt extremely badly for my husband who slept on the hardwood floor in front of the couch, trying to keep up with the many clothing changes, helping me off the bathroom floor, and trying to get food and water into me. I was severely dehydrated - it was the most horrible thing I've ever experienced in my life. So, one little pill can take me out. For DAYS on end.

Well, my doctor is aware of my intolerance to the drug, so he magically gave me the anti-nausea ear patch to wear while I was taking medicine. They last for like 4 days, and he gave me a prescription for 3 of them to get me through the first weeks post-surgery this time around. It helped. I was able to tolerate the drugs in my system, and function. It was a miracle.

Well, needless to say my husband felt guilty because he gave me one of my prescription OxyContin pills thinking that the jarring whack on the wall and the resulting pain and swelling made it necessary. I told him I took a hydro about 2 hours before the adverse reaction began that morning. Normally, I can tolerate a hydro without any nausea medicine IF I take it before bed and I sleep through it. But, that's not what happened. By the time I'd taken the hydro, the oxy had been taken over 12 hours before, so it was safe to take the hydro ... or so I had assumed.

So there I was, miserable on the bed, pillows piled around me, Salonpas patches covering the side I was laying on, unable to function more than to stare at my Kindle screen while a show played. He checked on me, then went to tell our German daughter he brought home a pizza for their dinner (He didn't want to cook, I couldn't, and it was fast and simple.) I proceeded to spend the next 30 minutes with my head in the toilet after I had attempted to eat 3 crackers and drink a glass of water. Low and behold, I walk out of the bathroom and I'm mortified that he's standing right there listening to the whole thing. I made him go eat his pizza in the other room and leave me alone.

It was a nightmare. I wasn't able to feel somewhat settled in my stomach until 10pm, when I asked for a bowl of soup. This morning, after spending 21 hours in bed, I'm pleased to say I haven't had my head in the toilet since 7 last night. We don't know if my arm is okay, and we will have to wait until Monday to find anything out for certain. But, at least I got that damn OxyContin out of my system.

Accidents happen. More so once you're in a fragile state such as mine. But, good rule of thumb - ALWAYS REMEMBER TO TAKE MEDICINE WHEN WEARING THE PATCH. No patch = no medicine. Period.