I recently had a minor surgical operation. Nothing substantive—barely left a scar. But my doctor prescribed me 30 Lortab, with an additional prescription for another 30 if I needed more.
I took one Lortab and its effects were pleasantly beneficial, in that cotton-wool-wrapping numbness one anticipates of one of the most famous—or infamous—"Happy Valley" pills.
It struck me as odd that my doc should give me such a large supply of something that is apparently so addictive. I meant to ask him when I saw him for my five-second check-up, but it slipped my mind.
I asked someone I've been talking to for another story to tell me the street value of what I currently possess. She's spent the past few years dealing a variety of substances.
Here are her thoughts:
"The street value of Lortab is $4 for 5 milligrams, $5 for 7.5 milligrams and $7 for 10 milligrams. Docs give Lortab out for a fucking hangnail. They get rewards and bonuses from the pharmaceutical companies for that—especially if it's a controlled substance, 'cause then they have a customer for life."
I have potentially 60 pills of 7.5 milligrams, which, if I had filled the second prescription, would have cost me, through my insurance, $5 out of pocket. Total street value then would be $300.
I can't speak to the veracity of her scathing critique of the relationship between the medical profession and the pill pushers. But I was left a little concerned that I had so much access to what is, by all accounts, a dangerously addictive drug.
I find this
simple evolution from patient to hypothetical dealer rather frightening.
Needless to say, I won't be pushing my pills on the street. I plan to
take them to a pharmacy to be disposed of properly.