In the late 70's/early 80's I smoked a little pot. In the late 80's/early 90's I snorted my fair share of coke. Ok, maybe my fair share and a little bit of your share, too. Every now and then my share, your share, and your Aunt Fannie's share, too. And Aunt Fannie likes her some blow. Just sayin', By the mid 90's my only remaining vice was liquor. And the occasional M&M. And love. Addicted to love, baby. Might as well face it.
Somewhere along the line, though (line. heh.) I lost my tolerance for drugs of any sort. Last spring I broke my arm and couldn't tolerate any of the pain meds that were prescribed. Those first two weeks on nothing by aceteminaphine were rough, let me tell you, but it was all I could handle.
Today I took two dramamines. We were going to be traveling in my sisters motor home and the last time I'd ridden in it for any distance I had motion sickness something awful. I've always been prone to motion sickness. I don't get it every time, but I do get it often. Those of you who experience it know that it doesn't end when the ride does. It ruins your whole day.
So to fend off potential motion sickness, I took two dramamine. This is on the high end of the recommended dosage, but still within it. Half an hour later I couldn't hold my head up. Four hours later I woke up refreshed and not at all carsick. But I fully and completely crashed for four solid hours.
So I'm thinking dramamine is the bomb.
I'd given one to Lea, too, as she inherited my motion sickness gene. She crashed, too. Her re-entry into the land of the living, however, was not as smooth as mine.
At a rest stop on the turnpike, Liv comes running over to me - "Hurry up! Lea is sick and she's on the ground! Come see!" She hadn't passed out, but her vision had gone blurry, her skin became instantly clammy and she lost all her color. Her lips were completely white. It was scary. She was too weak to stand.
It passed - the worst of it, anyway - and we got her back to the camper and into bed where she slept a little more. When she felt a little better, she ate. Then she slept a little more.
She's fine, now. But when we hit the road again Sunday, no dramamine for her. (I will try to pick up some of those pressure point wrist bands for her between now and then.) Momma, of course, will be fully dosed.
Once in the late 80's/early 90's - when I was transitioning from one drug of preference to the next (and therefore dabbling a bit in both) - I was at a party. This one guy was stoned on who knows what. He fell down the stairs. As I passed him, his face was squashed on the floor and his body was spread out full-length up the stairs. He opened one eye as I passed and said, "drugs can hurt you, man." Then he closed his eye and crashed, in an inverted position on a staircase.
True dat, my brother. True dat.