Today I had to ferry my mother to the hospital yet again. Was another ischaemic attack plus arm broken in two places, because right when she was having the episode she was standing up and crashed to the floor landing on one shoulder. Anyways.
... The doctor said she needed a stronger painkiller than the paracetamol she'd been fobbed off with before, and that they were going to give oramorph to take home. Don't get me wrong now, I really wasn't thinking of taking any of it so long as she was using it (I'm not THAT low), just banking on some leftovers.
But yeah. I went from fearing my mother might die and concerned over her injury, to instantly slavering over the prospect of getting my hands on some of that oramorph. And feeling VICIOUSLY disappointed when they apparently reconsidered and sent her packing with some lame co-codamol instead.
And not to lie, I feel kinda dirty for that.