Oxycodone in My Dresser

I have 20 oxycodone in my dresser. The instructions say to take 1-2 every 4-6 hours for pain.

I also have 20 promethazine to deal with the nausea that the oxycodone may cause. Oh, and I have some Senokot, too, because one or the other was supposed to have caused constipation.

I am a 51-year-old woman in very good shape. A few weeks ago, I broke my ankle when I fell off my bike. I immediately went to an ER where they wrapped me in a soft cast and told me to see a surgeon. As they set my leg, they commented that I had a pretty high threshold for pain. They told me to take 600mg of Advil, showed me how to use crutches, and released me with no prescription. It was a Sunday in Connecticut and narcotics would have been hard to find, anyway.

Within 48 hours, I met an orthopedic surgeon and had surgery that afternoon. In preparation for surgery I received a prescription for a knee scooter, a handicapped parking application, and oxycodone. All in one packet of materials.

I told my surgeon that I didn’t want to take any narcotics. He replied that I could keep taking the 600mg of Advil if I wanted, but said I should fill the prescriptions fully and have them available. Just in case.

Throughout my injury experience, I kept being encouraged to “stay ahead of the pain.” I heard it from my surgeon, my pre-op nurses, my post-op nurse, and many, many friends. “Just take one,” they told me about the oxycodone. “Just to stay ahead of it.”

No one asked me if I had a personal or family history of substance use disorder, or if I had any other issues with taking narcotics, before I received all this casual advice.

To prepare for the surgery, the anesthesiologist used a blocker, a numbing injection of medication, on my leg. Minutes before he began, I became anxious about the two needles. Noticing my discomfort, he instructed the nurse to give me fentanyl in my IV. I heard that while lying on my stomach in a hospital gown with tubes attached everywhere–and I stopped him. Fentanyl, no one had mentioned that before! Yes, the needles hurt for about 45 seconds each, but I can endure pain for 45 seconds. I fell asleep, I woke up, and I now have a titanium plate and screw in my left ankle.

I slept great the evening after the surgery. I still had anesthesia in me and the blocker numbing my leg. I kept taking the recommended 600mg of Advil every few hours when I woke up—and I waited for the dreaded pain to start. I was terrified anticipating the pain I had heard so much about. I kept trying to figure out if my leg was still numb, worrying that the pain would certainly follow once the numbness wore off. I could wiggle my toes; the pain must be coming. I could rub my calf and feel it; the pain must be coming.

Well, it didn’t. The pain I was so frequently warned about never showed up for me at all. I’m certainly uncomfortable, and sore, and very bummed to be immobile for six weeks of summer. But this is not the type of pain that requires an addictive narcotic, which requires another medication to deal with the nausea and then yet another to deal with the constipation. What I really need is a prescription for a therapist, so I don’t get depressed over the next six weeks lying on my back with my leg elevated!

It’s June, my favorite time of year. End of school year parties, the opening of pools, great hiking and biking. This summer will be especially sweet: my daughter is graduating from high school and we have lots of school ceremonies, prom, and graduation events scheduled. With a little planning, I’ll be there for everything—and the many pictures will immortalize my cast and scooter.

As a Shatterproof staffer, I’m well informed about the addictive qualities of opioids. I understand there are legitimate medical uses for opioids, of course—but pain management, just like treatment for addiction, is not “one size fits all.”

Why did no one want to discuss my pain management options, or the range of pain experiences I might have? Why didn’t anyone talk with me about ways to stay strong and positive while couch-ridden and uncomfortable for six weeks?

One part of my job is informing people about what to do when they need to manage pain. I’m tasked with guiding others through conversations with friends and healthcare professionals about opioids and alternatives. Well, now I know firsthand: No matter how informed you are, it can still be nearly impossible to get anyone involved in your care to listen. We at Shatterproof have a lot of work to do. I’ll keep doing my part—even from the couch, with my leg elevated, for now.

Leslie Litsky is Shatterproof's Senior Editor of Education Development.

Originally published in 2018.