The Great Ibuprofen Incident

So, I’ve noticed I’m getting old. Not "retirement home" old, but "I pull a muscle putting on socks" old. My body now sends me a passive-aggressive ache for every slightly strenuous thing I do.

Last night, I was making dinner. Just stirring a pot of pasta. Very intense stuff. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my lower back. Not a "I threw my back out" pain, but a "Hmm, that’s probably a kidney stone" pain.

Naturally, I panicked. I did what any modern millennial does: I Googled my symptoms.

Big mistake.

According to WebMD, I had approximately 14 minutes to live. I had everything from "Acute Lumbago" to "The Plague." I decided I needed to take an ibuprofen immediately.

I limped over to the bathroom cabinet. I found the bottle. I popped the top. My plan was simple: toss one pill into my mouth and swallow.

But my hands were sweaty. The pill was small. I missed.

The pill bounced off my lip, shot straight up into the air, and disappeared into the abyss of my bathroom sink drain.

I stood there, mouth open, staring at the drain. I felt a profound sense of failure. I couldn't even successfully swallow a pill. I am a grown man. I have a mortgage. I have a LinkedIn profile. And I just lost a fight with a 200mg tablet.

I tried again. This time, I used two pills, just in case. I tossed them both. One went in. The other hit the back of my throat and got stuck.

I started gagging. I coughed. I hacked. I sounded like a dying seal. I grabbed the faucet for balance, slipped on the rug, and ended up on my knees in front of the toilet, dry-heaving while my cat watched from the doorway, judging me with the intensity of a thousand suns.

Eventually, the pill went down. The back pain is still there. But now I also have a sore throat and a bruised ego.

I texted my doctor friend: "I think I’m dying."

He replied: "You’re not dying. You’re just 30. Welcome to the club. Here’s a coupon for a heating pad."

He wasn't wrong. I’m currently sitting on a heating pad, eating pudding, and wondering if I should start using a cane just for the aesthetic.

Oophs All Day.​ Even my own body is filing for early retirement. 😭

Bonus tragedy: The sink drain has since been renamed The Pill Abyss in my household emergency protocol document (which is just a sticky note on the fridge that says "CALL MOM?" and "PILL ABYSS — DO NOT STARE INTO IT.").