Tuesday, June 27 2000
In the morning after I got up, I went down to the shower and, as usual, started peeing in the shower (no, I'm not self conscious to admit to such a thing). But then it occurred to me that I really wanted to cut the peeing short and just sit on the pot to unburden myself of more substantial payload. So, reflexively, I just squeezed my penis in hopes of shutting it off. I guess I did so at just the wrong time because I was met with a sharp but not unfamiliar pain halfway down my urethra. But then something happened that has never happened before. Blood suddenly gushed from the end of my penis! Thankfully the bleeding only lasted about a minute and then I was as good as normal. I feared my urinations would be painful after that, but they weren't. I've found that in general injuries to my penis heal extremely quickly. And, evidently, bursting a penile blood vessel is no big deal.
At night my mismatched molars were hurting rather distractingly, perhaps from the stress of trying to grind them into compatibility a few days ago. So I downed a couple of what I took to be my Codeine pills and then hung out with Kim for a time. After awhile I started feeling jittery and nervous, with a racing heart and a feeling of contained panic. I usually only get this way when I smoke a lot of pot using unusually efficient paraphernalia, but with marijuana (at least) the feeling is usually accompanied with amusingly detailed thinking and oddly insightful emotions. Not so this time.
By the time we went to bed, I was a trembling psychological mess, staring at the ceiling with nausea and a racing heart, convinced I was about to die. Kim assured me this couldn't be the case, but she had no idea what I was feeling within my body. After awhile, when I was just laying there catatonic with my eyes wide open, she started saying things like "you're worrying me."
Sexually, I was completely dysfunctional. Not only could I not move my mind onto erotic thoughts, but even when given what should have been extremely erotic stimulation, my penis retained the size and shape of a double-A battery.
Long after Kim was asleep, I continued to lie there with a racing heart and a troubled mind. I was mostly thinking about my recent dental work, how terribly incompetent it had been. I resolved to only have two things done at my scheduled Friday appointment: have my molars ground down until they match and have my root canal sealed up. I certainly don't want any more of my cavities filled and I see no use in having an expensive crown put in place of my perfectly acceptable secondary incisor filling. Interestingly, throughout the whole experience, the pain in my teeth, if anything, was actually heightened. My Codeine wasn't being much of a pain killer and it was behaving more like a stimulant than a depressant.
The next day I realized that, instead of codeine, the pills I'd taken had been from a bottle of prescription Nizoral Kim had picked up today. They'd been in an identical bottle, stored in the same place and the pills had looked exactly the same. I hadn't even thought to look at the label since I'd had no idea that Kim had even been to her dermatologist today. Nizoral is a drug used for treating a variety of skin conditions, including hair loss, rosacea, and perhaps athletes foot, the latter of which has coincidentally been plaguing me continuously for the past three months. I looked up Nizoral on the web and learned that my symptoms were not uncommon side effects, especially given the fact that I'd taken twice the prescribed dosage.
For linking purposes this article's URL is:feedback
previous | next