What happens when you stop Oxynorm cold turkey — chaos, confusion, and some very unexpected life lessons from opioid withdrawal.
Never in my wildest dreams did I think that coming off painkillers would make me question my own sanity. I knew recovery after Achilles surgery wasn’t going to be a walk in the park, but I wasn’t expecting to temporarily lose my mind in the process.
The Great Oxynorm Break-Up
After my surgery, I’d been taking Oxynorm for about ten days along with an endless list of meds that we had to write up on the white board to remind of times to take etc. I was told this is major surgery and you need to take all these meds to keep the pain at bay. In the past I would have needed to be so so unwell just to take a panadol.
Oxynorm did its job well — too well, actually. I wasn’t in pain, but I was also a little too chilled, a bit too floaty. I’d heard a few horror stories about opioids, so on Saturday night I decided, “That’s it, I’m done.” I’d take Panadol and Nurofen like a normal person and be fine.
Spoiler alert: I was not fine.
Enter the Crazy Hour
Within hours, my body went into full-blown revolt. My heart was racing, my anxiety shot through the roof, and I barely recognised myself. My thoughts came like fireworks — one exploding into another before the last one had even fizzled out. I was pacing the kitchen like a woman possessed, talking to myself, crying, laughing, and convincing myself I was either dying or going insane.
My family didn’t know whether to call a doctor, a priest, or a film crew for a reality show. It was like my mind had been hijacked by chaos.
What Opioid Withdrawal Really Feels Like
I now understand what opioid withdrawal really means — it’s not just feeling a bit off; it’s your brain begging for something it can’t have anymore. And the kicker? No one told me you can’t just stop taking Oxynorm cold turkey. Not a doctor, not a nurse, not a single leaflet mentioned it.
Apparently, you’re supposed to wean off opioids gradually. Had I known that, I might have saved myself a night of psychotic-level chaos and a few terrified family members.
The Longest 16 Hours of My Life
Those 16 or so hours were some of the scariest of my life. I’ve battled serious illness before — meningitis nearly took my life years ago — but this was something else entirely. It felt like my brain was flipping through channels I hadn’t subscribed to — none of them good.
The Slow Return to Myself
Over the next two days, I slowly came back to myself. Fragile, yes, but clearer. Grateful to be emerging from the fog. It’s terrifying how powerful these drugs are and how quickly they can take hold — even when you think you’re being careful.
The Hidden Side of Painkillers
That’s what really hit me: we trust what we’re given in hospitals, assuming it’s all fine. But no one tells you that painkillers like Oxynorm can play absolute havoc with your mental health if you come off them too fast. They sedate everything — your pain, your emotions, even your sense of self — and when they wear off suddenly, you feel every raw edge of reality all at once.
Finding Humour in the Madness
Looking back now, I can see the dark humour in it. Imagine explaining to people that you temporarily went mad because you stopped taking a few pills. It sounds ridiculous — but it’s true.
My family still laughs nervously about “that night Mum went off the rails,” but underneath the laughter is relief that I’m okay. Because that’s what recovery really is — messy, unpredictable, and sometimes completely absurd.
Takeaways from the Edge of Sanity
So here’s my takeaway from Day 10 of this recovery journey:
- Respect the meds. Opioids aren’t villains, but they demand respect.
- Ask questions. Always check how long to take something and how to come off it safely.
- Be patient. Healing doesn’t follow your timetable.
- Expect the unexpected. Even tiny pills can have massive effects — physical and emotional.
- Laugh when you can. Humour is sometimes the only way through chaos.
Final Thoughts
I’ll never look at a prescription label the same way again. And if anyone ever tells you to “just stop taking it,” trust me — don’t.
So yes, I survived my 16-hour descent into full-blown chaos, and I’m back to being me — mostly sane, slightly jumpy, and now officially terrified of any pill that comes in a tiny white capsule. My family has promised to never mention the “Kitchen Pacing Olympics” again, but I know they’re secretly keeping score in their heads.
The moral of the story? Painkillers can heal your body, but apparently, they can also give your brain a brief cameo in a low-budget horror film. And if you ever see me staring at a prescription label like it’s a Sudoku puzzle, just know I’m not crazy…well not really!
