Page 141 of Never Stop

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Brooke

“So, I was thinking,” I paused the show Easton and I were watching on our DVR, “I’m going to stop taking the oxy.”

I was starting to notice the side effects of the oxy more. If I went longer than four hours without taking the pills, I would sweat on the left side of my body. Just the left. It was a weird sensation. I emailed Dr. Simon and asked him about it. Apparently, it was due to them cutting the T1 nerve. I had no idea that a nerve in my arm could cause such a thing. Then again, it was supposed to be attached to the spinal column.

I started thinking that maybe I was addicted to the drug and that maybe I wasn’t really in pain. I’d heard people talk about side effects about drugs and that your body more or less starts to crave the high. Some might think that being on the drug for a few months wouldn’t cause you to become addicted, but that wasn’t true. I knew from the minute ten milligrams worked that I would try to take them for as long as I could. Having the pain relief was like taking a bite of cake after dieting for a year. The moment you stick the pill in your mouth, a sense of relief flows through you. It might not be in your system yet, but the mere thought of it on its way was satisfaction, and everything else seemed to take a backseat. It was like my body knew it was coming.

Could my body be tricking me into thinking I really was in pain because it wanted that awesome relaxed feeling it got from the oxy? One of the withdrawal side effects was muscle and joint pain. Could my body really need the drugs so bad that going a few minutes over caused withdrawal symptoms?

There was only one way to find out.

I felt Easton’s gaze turn to me. “Why?”

I sat up and looked at him and explained how I was feeling. I wasn’t sure what made me exactly want to stop other than when I searched the withdrawal symptoms, sweating was one of them. If I went longer than four hours without taking the pills, I would sweat on the left side of my body. Just the left. It was a weird sensation. I’d emailed Dr. Simon and asked him about it. Apparently, it was due to them cutting the T1 nerve. I had no idea that a nerve in my arm could cause such a thing. Then again, it was supposed to be attached to the spinal column.

I also knew that I felt agitated if I didn’t pop a pill and the pain—the pain that seemed to only go away for four hours at a time and not one-hundred percent. Also the loss of appetite, but that was from when I was in the hospital. Needless to say, I had a lot of the symptoms of withdrawal. Sure, I didn’t have the major ones yet like vomiting or anything of that nature, but having half of the list was enough for me to question if I was an addict.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I can always start taking them again.”

“You’ve only been recovering for a few months.”

“Maybe I was only supposed to be on them for a month like my original supply.”

“I actually don’t think you can have refills on narcotics anymore. The doctor needs to call it in each time.”

My brows furrowed. “How do you know that?”

“I looked it up,” Easton stated. “After I emailed Dr. Simon for you last time, I was curious why there were no refills after a major surgery. I guess there’s some regulation about it now or maybe oxy is just different from Norco.”

“It definitely is different. I can tell just by taking it.” When I was taking Norco, it just took my pain away more or less.

“So you really want to stop?” he asked again.

I sighed. “I hate being dependent on pills. If we ever want to have a baby, I can’t be doped up.”

“All right. What’s your plan?”

I thought for a few months. “I guess I’ll go back down to five milligrams for like a week and then zero.”

“Sounds good. The weed is in my closet if you need it again.”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “No thanks.”

“We can make brownies or something.”

“You just don’t give up do you?” I was starting to get annoyed at his insistence.

With a warm smile, he said, “I just want to hear you laugh again.”

For the next week, I couldn’t stop sweating. It was as though my body was trying to release the toxins from within. My anxiety started to increase, and I cried more. I didn’t think I could cry more than I already was, but sure enough, I was crying every hour.

When Cheyenne was home, I tried my hardest to be strong in front of her, but the moment she would leave the room, the waterworks started. I tried over and over to stop. I was fine—physically okay—but emotionally spent.

And it was just the beginning.