There were prescription drugs under the sink, in a box in the garage and in a bag in the back of the closet. There were plastic drop off containers full of used syringes and unopened boxes of syringes with prescription meds in them. Finally, today I was able to drop them off at a neighborhood disposal site.
I literally disposed of thousands of dollars worth of drugs that, thankfully, the insurance company paid for. It's so unfortunate that there is no way to give them to hospice or the hospital so that someone without insurance could benefit from them.
The ones that haunted me the most were the bottles of oxycodone. In the months just after Laurence passed I debated whether or not to take them myself. I reasoned that they would relieve me of my physical and emotional pain. Or perhaps I should save them in case times get tough, as they would be a source of easy cash.
I was ashamed and frightened by my thinking until I found out I was not alone. I recently met with a friend who also lost her husband to cancer and she confessed the same temptation. Reality is shaky when dealing with grief.
I know without a doubt my sanity and my life was saved by all the prayers being sent my way. I absolutely know angels and my beloved are watching over me. Praise God.
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