I've Been Robbed

I’ve been robbed.

This isn’t a figurative statement.

I am not talking about how I have been robbed of a healthy life, career, and twenty-something experience.

I am also not talking about the long term disability insurance company or my health insurance company who have had their hands in my wallet for years now.

This statement is very concrete.

I’ve been robbed.

Even as I have said it a few times and now I type it I can’t quite comprehend the ramifications of this person’s actions and my response.

How do you feel when someone does something so despicable and reprehensible to a person they are close with?

How do you feel when your trust has clearly been violated, especially when I had suspicions, but trusted instead?

How could anybody take advantage of someone as sick as me, knowing what my family is suffering from, for their own benefit?

I can’t wrap my head around this.

I would rather trust upfront and deal with the consequences. I think everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt, no matter how many horror stories I have heard of misbehaviors and rumors of drug dealing and drug use about these people.

This all feels surreal.

I wish I was waking up from a bad dream.

I wish I was making this up.

If you have ever read my writing in disbelief, I understand.

Who knew the truth could be so shocking? Who could really make these events up?

After I started to suspect, I went into the bathroom where I keep my medications.

I take Oxycontin daily for pain.

Oxycontin, if you’ve ever read the news, is a drug addict favorite. It is long lasting. It is used to control my pain through out the day so I can function with a baseline comfort.

It’s a Godsend to me. I can play with my son. I can go for walks. I can read and swim. I can call friends and make plans.

I can write.

Without these medications I would certainly be curled in a ball, in severe pain, begging for this fight to be over.

This is why narcotics are prescribed, but for every good there is a bad.

I’ve experienced the dark side of being prescribed pain killers in the past.

Several years ago, a teenager tried to rob my house in the middle of the night only to be scared off by my ferocious german shepard.

I live out in the woods, with no neighbors within eyesight or earshot. I am in a small community.

Drug addicts are smart enough to deduce that a cancer patient is prescribed pain control medication.

I think this man cased my house. He showed up on an evening my husband was away and drove to our door, only to be met by a raging animal.

I LOVE MY DOG.

Yesterday’s problem is different. This was perpetrated by people I know. These people opened the door and walked into my home without knocking, feeling comfortable they would have been invited in.

When I saw them I did invite them in. They had a reason to be at my home. I knew them.

I have also been robbed of my medications in the past. It has also been by people who I welcomed into my house.

When those people were confronted, they shrugged their shoulders and told me, “I could get more.”

There is no reasoning with a drug addict.

It is most often people I know. They are close enough to be welcome, but distanced enough to be suspicious when they just “drop by.”

Yesterday, I was trying to sneak in a nap while Xander watched TV and played webkinz.

I was tired and dazed when they came in. I opened my eyes to talk.

One of the woman said she had to use the bathroom, my public half bathroom.

The other stayed for a second and then said, “I have to go too. I’m just going to use the bathroom in your room.”

She scampered off quickly. I was tired, dazed, and let her, even though we both know I have a full bath in a more public space just as close on the second floor of our home.

She headed quickly to our master bath.

As soon as they were done with their “bathroom breaks” they were out of there, having grabbed what they came for.

I was suspicious.

I was ill at ease.

Something was wrong, but I didn’t feel like dealing with it.

When Jon came home he did.

I went into our master bathroom, where my daily medications are housed, and while sitting on the toilet I saw a white pill with a “10” inscribed on it.

“That’s an oxycontin.” I thought to myself and picked it up, “I would never treat my medications so badly. I wouldn’t throw any on the floor.”

This was big, bad warning sign number one.

I have a six year old.

He is curious.

He likes to do experiments and make “potions.” I’m certainly not going to leave ANY pill lying around for him to use as an ingredient.

I reached for my basket of meds and my oxycontin was lying on the top.

I pulled it out and shook it.

It felt a little light.

I put the fallen pill back in the bottle and took the bottle out to the kitchen where Jon was cooking.

It was time to play pharmacist

I counted what was left: 18 pills.

Then I looked at the date when the prescription had been filled. I filled it nine days ago. I would have taken 18 pills myself as prescribed.

Eighteen + Eighteen= 36 pills that were accounted for.

I was given sixty for the month.

I take the medication twice a day, one in the morning and one in the evening.

I was missing a grand total of twenty-four pills.

DAMMIT.

I tried to think of where they could have gone.

I thought maybe I separated them for protection. I looked around the house.

I really didn’t want to accuse anybody when I wasn’t absolutely sure. I am forgetful, but I am pretty precise when it comes to my medications.

I quickly ran out of possibilities for a reasonable loss of 24 10mg oxycontins.

This is the dark side of being a cancer patient.

I have written about this or alluded to this before.

I am not sure if this is seen among other patients and if it has become more prevalent due to the young age of people suffering from painful, chronic debilitating diseases.

Being the same age as these drug addicts, as well as having a binding relationship, they know I am prescribed and they will find a way to gain access.

I am trying not to lose faith in humanity based on this.

I cried myself to sleep and prayed last night that those I may leave will grow safely despite what happens in the world, especially if I am not there to guide them.

I am hoping to do all I can so if I have to leave this world it is a better place where children receive the love and safety they deserve, where everyone’s basic needs can be met allowing even those with the largest obstacles to overcome to thrive.

Right now, I just cry.