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Nothing riles me more than being accused of something I have not done.

For example, when I was in college I was playing a game of Scruples with my roommate and her friends. The basis of the games is a set of cards, each with a morally ambiguous situation. As each person takes their turn, they read off a card and state what they would do in that situation. Then all the other players vote as to whether the person is lying or not. Depending on the results, the person whose turn it is gets to move forward or not.

Anyway, the situation I picked up was this: It is 2am on a dark country road. You see someone at the side of the road with a flat tire. Do you stop to help?

I said, “Heck no! That could be a trap!”

The others said I was lying.

Well, I wasn’t. I got so incensed that no one believed I was telling the truth that I walked away from the game in a huff.

Why do I share this story? Because it happened again this week and it bothers me so much I just want to break something.

A few weeks ago, I hurt my back. I don’t have health insurance because I’m between jobs, so I went to a walk-in, low-cost clinic. The doctor gave me some muscle relaxants and Vicodin, stating that she could tell I wasn’t a person there just trying to get drugs.

Now, I don’t know about you but I don’t like Vicodin. I doesn’t seem to do anything for the pain and it makes me rather nauseous.

Well, my back gets slowly better. I get a job and on my first day by back goes out again — only worse. I was in so much pain, I couldn’t drive home. I was 36 miles from home and my husband was planning on bicycling up to get me. Fortunately, AAA made an exception and had me towed home. I got home early enough to go back to that clinic.

This time, the doctor said she wasn’t going to give me Vicodin because she could tell I was an addict.

Yeah. Right. I love feeling nauseous and still being in pain. Give me some more of that Vicodin.

Erg! I still had Vicodin left. And it does squat for me. I really don’t understand how people can be addicted to it. I mean, really, if I’m going to be addicted to something, its going to be something that makes me feel good — not sick.

Then yesterday, I was talking to me dad and found out that Vicodin doesn’t work for him either. Well that does it. No one is going to make me pay for Vicodin again, it is just a waste of my money.

Drug addict, indeed.