So I rolled my ankle at work the other day. Nothing major, but it hurts. I'd love to say it was in the course of doing something stupidly heroic, but it wasn't. I just missed a curb and pretty much tripped over my own feet. The only upside, if there is one, is that it was dark, and nobody saw me do it. Unlike the last time I did something like that. I'm still bitter about the score from the East German judge, too.
Anyway, my left foot and ankle now hurt. The arch and the outside of my instep. Weird place to hurt, and the ibuprofen I took didn't do anything. I think I'm probably immune. I've been using it since my Marine Corps days, when the battalion aid station handed out baggies of giant orange horse pills (Motrin 800) like they were candy. If you were really lucky, you'd have something long term, and could get the 250 tab pharmacy bottle. It was always nice to have a stash. God only knows what we did to our kidneys, considering how many of those things we popped. I remember there was an official warning from our battalion surgeon at one point. Didn't stop us.
I celebrated the day Ibuprofen went OTC. I STILL pop it like candy, but I pay a little more attention to dosages now. No, I don't follow the label directions. They tell you to take 200, wait an hour, and if it doesn't work, take another 200. I don't do that. I take 800, wait eight hours, then take another 800. And so on. I'm not exceeding the prescription dose, so no problem. Until it quits working. I have, over the years, managed to dent and ding myself countless times. Knees, right hip, right shoulder, most of my ribs, left foot, couple fingers, you name it, I've probably broken, torn, strained, or sprained it. Even if I weren't currently out of warranty, I probably voided it somewhere around 1993 or so. It all means I've taken a lot of ibuprofen over time, and now it doesn't always work for me anymore.
It's gotten to the point that if I go see my doctor for anything pain-related, she more or less automatically writes me a script for something stronger. She knows I hate taking pain meds, so if I come in asking, it must be serious. It usually means I've been maxed out on NSAIDs for a week or two, and they aren't helping any more. I always feel like I'm whining when I go for pain, and I really hate drug seekers (Occupational hazard.), so the pain control visit usually involves some chitchat, followed by a lecture that ends with me promising to actually fill the script and take the damn pills. Sometimes I even keep that promise.
I'm not at that point yet, even though the ankle is really stiff and sore this morning. I can still walk on it, so it must not be too bad, right? Besides, I took this amazing wonder drug for the pain. One that fixes almost all pain, prevents, cancer, prevents blood clots, and can even save your life if you're having a heart attack. All this, and you can get a 100 tablet bottle for a dollar. Aspirin.
It worked.
No comments:
Post a Comment