I took an overdose the other day.

Don’t worry – I’m still alive. 

I think.

It all started when I set about sorting my various pills for the week.  That wonderful joyous passtime where us old folk take out all those packets and bottles and consign their contents to the little seven-day yoke.

Now all my pills and potions come in those nightmare strips of bubbles, bar one which comes in a little brown bottle thing.  Fine so far.

I filled up the seven day yoke, and seeing as I hadn’t taken my night time ones, I stuck those in a spare bottle for later consumption and enjoyment.

Later that evening, I raised my little bottle I had prepared, saluted the dog and then swallowed the contents.

I tried to get to sleep that night.  It wasn’t easy.  My mind was racing all over the place and the restless legs were the worst they had been in months or even years.  I was at screaming pitch.  There was no fucking way I was going to get any kip.  I decided to take a sleeping pill, but they were out in the kitchen.

I got out of bed in the pitch dark [didn’t want to wake the dog; Herself was as usual snoring fit to take the roof off].  As I tried walking across the living room my legs went all kind of funny and weird.  I tripped over the coffee table which is low and extremely heavy.  There was an enormous crash as I did a header over the coffee table and landed in the fireplace.  Fuck! 

I discovered I couldn’t move.  My leg hurt like fuck and my elbow felt like it was broken where it had struck the hearth.  I decided to sleep there.

That didn’t work, but eventually I discovered I could actually move so I limped into the kitchen and swallowed some sleeping pills.

The next morning I examined the damage.  I had lost all the skin up my shin from foot to kneecap and the elbow was still extremely sore.  There was no outward sign of elbow damage so I reckon I probably broke it.  Us mountainy blokes are tough though and a broken elbow is merely a scratch.  I ignored it.  I still felt very weird though.

That afternoon a thought occurred to me.  I checked my stash of drugs.

Everything was in order until I checked the little brown bottle.  There were the pills I had stored for nighttime consumption! 

So that explained everything.

I had managed to swallow over a weeks worth of pills instead of the usual mixed dose which I had prepared [and which incidentally included pills to kill the restless legs].

I’m back to normal now, whatever normal is.  The leg is scabbing over and I think the bones in the elbow are beginning to set.

I suppose I should be more careful?