...to the list of things I will never be: drug addict.

Following my emergency root canal treatment last week (actually only the first step--I have to get the rest done tomorrow) I was feeling prety good until the novacaine wore off. Then I understood why the dentist insisted on writing me a script for Vicodin. Apparently all that drilling and digging cause enough trauma to the area that there is still some pain following the treatment.

I have taken Vicodin before. In Seminary, fall of my internship year, I had let some needed dental work go without attending to it. The result was that I had an abcess that was complicated by severly impacted wisdom teeth--we're talking root twisted around bone here--so I had oral surgery right before Thanksgiving of that year (2000). Thanks to the 'twilight sleep' IV I didn't feel a single moment of the surgery, nor did I remember it, even though I was awake the whole time. If you are ever offered 'twilight sleep' or 'amnesiac sedation'--take it!

The trouble came afterwards. The most common complication of extractions is dry socket, when the protective clot that forms over the wounds gets disturbed or loosened, and you are left with excruciating pain. I developed dry socket on Thanksgiving Day, the day I ran out of Vicodin.

My poor long-suffering spouse had to call the surgeon's answering service, then listen to me whimper and cry as we drove over to his office, 25 miles away. The surgeon, (blessings be upon he and his family forever) met us at the office, he gave me a quick exam and unlocked the drug cabinet to give me the lovely bottle of relief.

That experience with Vicodin was that it made me basically pass out, taking away my pain and leaving me blissfully unaware of the healing process. As soon as I woke up every six hours or so I went to the bathroom, had some water to drink, took another pill and it was lights out again. This was my life over the holiday weekend. I don't know what my family ate that day, or if they shopped that weekend, or what the weather was like (probably 50 and rainy).

So this time when I was offered Vicodin I thought to myself, "Well, I'll take the script. I'll even fill it since I'm here. Maybe I'll need one or two, and I'll flush the others.

Last night I needed a pill. When I say needed a pill, I mean that the pain was sufficiently bad as to necessitate medication. So I took one at 9:15, thinking it would knock me out by 10:00 or so, my usual Saturday night bedtime.

Well, 10:00 came and went. At 10:30, just as SNL was starting, I started to get sleepy, so we turned in, and I waited for that old familiar eyelids-made-of-lead feeling. Nothing. I was wired! When I finally fell asleep, around 11:30 or so, all I could think was "I'm going to feel like crap tomorrow. And it's communion Sunday."

Unfortunately, I was visited last night by a very old notorious friend/enemy. I had three of the worst panic attacks I have ever had. If you've had a panic attack before, you are feeling bad for me right now. if you've never had them, you are wondering what is so bad about a panic attack.

Imagine waking up absoutely convinced that you are going to die right that minute, even though intellectually you know that you are relatively healthy. That is some idea of what a panic attack is like. It wipes you out. It completely drains you, only afterwards you are afraid to go back to sleep. I had three of those last night. I am not taking Vicodin again.

Before this happened to me I wrote to a friend that I'd make a lousy crack-head because I wouldn't get anything done. Now I have an even better reason! I think I'll go now and take three Advil.