My Husband Tried to Kill Me (not really)
Several years ago, my husband Bob tried to kill me. No, he didn’t employ a hired gun from the cast of the Sopranos. He secretly used a much more subtle, much less noticeable, and yes, much less incriminating method to help me meet my demise.
Step into the time machine with me and travel back to the year 2000. Bob and I needed a change of scenery, a change of pace, a break from our tedious routine. So, we arranged for the lucky grandparents to spend a week with their three year old granddaughter Melissa, and hopped a cross country flight to the place where Tony Bennett left his heart. Yes, The Golden Gate Bridge, Fishermen’s Wharf, old fashioned trolley cars, and the world’s most crooked street welcomed this east coast couple with open arms.
Bob and I immediately embraced San Francisco’s fine dining, beautiful scenery, fascinating history, quaint shopping galleries, and multi-cultural neighborhoods. However, on the second day of our vacation, I started to feel a bit tired. A slow growing, throbbing sensation gripped the back of my head until finally, on day three, the pain could no longer be ignored. Reluctantly, I asked Bob if he had any Tylenol.
Never one to disappoint, Bob pulled out a prescription bottle filled to the brim with pills of assorted shapes and sizes. A year earlier, he had been diagnosed with diabetes. Fortunately, Bob took his medication diligently, resulting in normal blood sugar levels with each three month doctor’s visit. Numerous drugs kept Bob healthy, and he carried them all in one prescription bottle, the contents of which now sat in his hand. He pulled out two Tylenol and gave them to me. I gulped then down, gave him a kiss of thanks, and we continued on our merry way.
The next morning dawned with my head still throbbing, so I requested more Tylenol from my husband, a pharmacy at the ready! This day’s journey began with a trip to the rental car agency where we procured a vehicle that would take us north into wine country, a picturesque area turned brown and arid as a result of an unusual California heat wave. As the temperature reached upwards of 104 degrees Fahrenheit, my head continued to throb. The wine tasting didn’t help matters. I looked at my husband and feebly asked for more Tylenol.
However, this time, he did not respond to my request, but looked away, afraid to meet my steady gaze.
“What’s wrong?” I inquired, getting slightly suspicious.
“Oh nothing, nothing really, it’s no big deal,” he said.
“What, just tell me,” I requested.
“Remember, this really isn’t that big a deal,” he insisted.
“Ok, so just tell me!” I demanded.
“Well, you know how I’ve been giving you Tylenol and your headaches have not been getting better?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I replied, stating the obvious.
“Well, it’s because I’ve been giving you glucophage by mistake.”
Now, I should pause here in my little tale to explain that glucophage is a medication given to people with diabetes to help control the amount of sugar in their blood. If you read the fine print on the prescription bottle, it clearly warns:
"Do not use to get rid of your non-diabetic wife’s headaches."
So at this point, my rational, logical brain took over and I reacted very calmly. I immediately concluded that, thanks to ingesting glucaphage, my hours left on the planet were, indeed, numbered.
“YOU GAVE ME WHAT?” I shouted at my frightened husband, who stood quaking in his boots, terrified of my reaction. “HOW COULD YOU DO THAT? ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME!”
Needless to say, I lived to tell the tale. The incident did, however, put a minor kink in our well planned vacation. Seems Bob had filled his prescription bottle with just the right amount of pills to last during the week we would be away. Since I had now taken four pills intended for him, we rapidly concluded that he would not have enough to last until we got home. Forget about what would happen to me for taking diabetes medication I wasn’t supposed to take, we were now more concerned about what would happen to Bob for not taking diabetes medication he was supposed to take.
Fortunately for us, we owned a cat. No, the cat did not fly across the country to bring Bob his diabetes medication. But the cat did need to eat every day, and, thankfully, a gracious neighbor had agreed to make sure the feline didn’t starve. This meant that this same gracious neighbor had a key to our house, and could go in, find Bob’s diabetes medication, and fed ex the pills to our hotel in San Francisco, which she did!
In the end, our neighbor saved the day, and neither one of us met our maker during our trip to San Francisco. However, I did learn a valuable lesson. Tony Soprano’s got nothing on my Bob!
If you like my stories please feel free to tell me in the comments below! Thanks for visiting!
Too funny. I'm glad that everything was ok!ReplyDelete
Thanks so much Kate! Isn't it funny how life's unexpected mishaps make for great stories!!Delete
That's terrifying. Glad you both survived. I did something stupid like that last week . . . with my five-year-old! My husband was not happy with me (turns out adult dose laxatives DO work on kids!). Please don't report me.ReplyDelete
Don't worry Amy, your secret is safe with me!Delete
Great story - I remember when my dad got up in the middle of the night and accidentally took two of my mom's fluid pills. He peed for the entire next day. Glad you survived to tell a funny tale!!ReplyDelete
Hi Donna, I think just about everyone has some kind of took the wrong meds story! Glad your dad was ok!! Thanks for visiting my blog!!Delete
Wow! If it reduced your blood sugar, I'm surprised you didn't plummet to a low after the wine sugar peaked. Glad you both made it through and you still trust your husband. Whew!ReplyDelete
Well, whenever he gives me meds I always make sure.... LOLDelete
i'm glad it turned out ok. i'm like your husband and carry a multi pill filled bottle . who knows how many lives i've endangered.ReplyDelete
I know Bev - and the thing is, we STILL can a multi-pill bottle, you'd think we would have learned our lesson. But we are just very careful now! Well, it least all of these years later it made for a good blog post! Thanks for visiting!Delete
glad you made it---and can laugh at the story now =)ReplyDelete
We actually laughed about it a few days later....poor Bob, my anger scared him so much!! Thanks for visiting!Delete
Yikes, I would have been freaking out! Glad everything ended up working out and now you can look back now and laugh! Sometimes those husband's of ours do the darnedest things don't they? I refer to mine sometimes as my 4th child....lol! =)ReplyDelete
Yes Sara, I agree - sometimes when he and my teen banter, I have to say, "Now children, stop that". They are like our children sometimes!!Delete
Oh wow! What an escapade! FYI: When traveling domestically, you can call your doctor's office to request a refill/emergency prescription be filled at a chain pharmacy (in case your husband poisons you with his medication or you spill it all over the hotel room floor). Unless it's a prescription for controlled substances (many pain meds), an emergency supply can be prescribed... probably cheaper than fedex.ReplyDelete
Your solution -- and the fact that you didn't kill Bob -- is commendable.
Thanks Karen, great advice which I will always remember from now on! And yes, much restraint not to kill him - lol!Delete
Yikes! I'm glad it wasn't something that killed you both. Karen always has the best travel advice, huh;)ReplyDelete
She sure does Courtney! Thanks for visiting my blog!Delete
What a near death experience, Lisa! You must've been low on sugar. But here's a tip:Next time, all you need do is contact your doctor and have them fax yours or your husbands prescription to the nearest pharmacy, whether a chain or not. My daughter once went to visit her father in SF, and forgot her prescription. One phone call and she was able to pick up her prescription at a local pharmacy. We live in America, after all. Things should be easy!ReplyDelete
Great advice Monica - we will know better for next time! At least it made for a good story! Thanks for visiting!Delete