Morphine-derived pharmaceuticals are great!
I had the mother of all neck pains yesterday and spent most of the day asleep trying to forget about it and taking assortments of drugs to try and ease the pain, plus rubbing Biofreeze on the area, to no avail.

The missus then suggested I try some codeine phosphate and paracetomol as a last resort, which I did at around 8pm.

I can't remember the last time I felt so stoned off my box. Everything was in slow motion :)

Neck still hurts, but not as bad as yesterday. Trip to the chiropracter tomorrow, possibly.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Sun 2 Aug 2009, 13:32, 4 replies, latest was 16 years ago)

Nyom, nyom, nyom, morphine.
/ac

I'ld rather do a handfull of codine phosphates with paracitimol over a night than have alchole.
( G/PP 💩💩💩💩💩&#128, Sun 2 Aug 2009, 17:18, Reply)

While they're awesome, I'd go for some hot and cold compresses alternated every few hours
I thought you sounded a bit out of your tree on the phone yesterday, but figured you'd been Northern drinking all day ,)
( fuck shit up the best you never had, Sun 2 Aug 2009, 18:19, Reply)

Codeine Phosphate and paracetamol are the best EVER! (aside from morpheine etc).
just don't have too much cos you'll find it either clogs yer guts right up or does the very opposite.
(Poppet some assembly required., Sun 2 Aug 2009, 22:07, Reply)

Opiates are great but the aftermath........ Repost from CP
I warned you!
As some of you know, I had spinal surgery last year to correct the cumulative damage of being a semi-pro silly bugger for about 40 years. Before any surgeon gets his hammers, chisels, shears and saws out they'll try ANYTHING to stop you having to go "under the knife". Especially if there's a chance that you'll:-
a/ be righteously fucked if they get it wrong and
b/ Still be able to sue them into the stone age if you survive the fuckup.
I came into both categories so I took a long course of Physio and serious painkillers, neither of which did jack to the underlying damage (as an aside, I think the physio accelerated the problem)until I met the surgeon. He needed a particular team and a particular operating theatre to do the 2-level ACDF I needed so I had to wait.

For three months.

He prescribed morphine-based painkillers YAY!
However, opiates cause constipation. Serious constipation. I went off my food for three months as it was going nowhere, except for occasional perfectly sherical, satsuma sized, eye waterer.

I had the surgery, spent two days in a haze of injected morphine and left the hospital with a big scar on my neck and a plate with bolts holding three of my vertebrae together while the bone harvested from my hip fused in and replaced the two shagged out discs.

I came home, a little pained but happy. Unfortunately I was no longer on opiates, therefore I was no longer constipated.

On the third moring I felt a bowel twinge I'd not felt for some time, I was actually happy that I'd be able to have my morning dump, a routine that had been denied me for too long! I took my ususal dumping accesories, book, radio, wet wipes etc in to the bog, sat and waited for the blessed relief that was to be my first post-operative-and-morphine-free log.
Sitting in the warm bosom of my bathroom I awaited the mudchild.
Now, I don't know about you, gentle reader, but I have only ever had to perform the minimal amount of straining to release a brown otter, normally I have the opposite. Open, dump, wipe check and flush, dead easy.

NOT.

THIS.

TIME.

Turtles head!? It felt like I'd got the great A'Tuin and the elephants all vying (sp?) for pole position, goatse himself would have been saying "I say chaps, steady on!". After what seemd like a cliche but was only a figure of speech, I thought I was done. Lacking the neck mobility to look over my shoulder I stood up to survey the monster.

Imagine a 5" ball made of maltesers of all different shades, from light brown to black actually wedged in the pan OVER the water. For a moment I was impressed, I'd battled the fecal monster and won, I was Beowulf, Arnie and Chuck Norris all rolled into one heroic shit-battling ninja. I'd WON!

Then the smell hit me. THEN my bowels, freed from the blockage and the morphine paralysis decided to let go. Spectacularly. All over the batroom door 6 feet away. I was hoiking my guts up, face down in the pan, my nose not more than 2" from the malteser ball, inhaling the fetid stench which gave me more reason to hurl, the resulting bowel pressure spraying slimy greenish blood-streaked sluglike lumps over the door.
After 10-15 minutes of this, I was empty. Completely empty. Lucky thing, because I had to clean the bathroom. Took an hour and a half and five towels I'd never use again.
Once safely bagged in THREE binbags I placed the towels in the bin.
The malteser ball was still there. Broke that up with the bog brush and had to flush in relays.
Never mind the anti-drug propaganda we peddle out, just get the junkies to stop for a day or two, then make them clear up the resulting mess.
Apologies for diameter and smell.
(Captain Placid 24/7 ball gags, brownie mix and clown porn, Mon 3 Aug 2009, 0:11, Reply)