Stupidity of a special kind, or how to avert a crisis

       I take 2 "whopper" pain med's every day.  By whopper I mean heavily narcotic.

1. Morhine, 35 mgs. every day. I swore this stuff didn't work, until I tried to ween off of it. I used the Irish method. "Suffer in Silence".  Well, I was wrong, way wrong about it not working. At the least amount I could tolerate, 20 mgs. a day, I managed gritted teeth and no sleep to reach 5 mg.'s/day. I cried alot. My feet burned, as if they were on fire, and other times it just felt as if my skin had been scraped off. My feet and shins feel like this most of the time, but not so severely that I cry.   I couldn't walk.  It felt like walking barefoot across a parking lot covered with granite chips.  The doc and I agreed that we should move my dosage back-up to 35 mg.'s
2. My second whopper is a nasty little lollipop called Actiq, or fentenyl, which is an as needed drug. I can handle up to 8 of the 250's per day.  A one month's supply costs $3,500 bucks.  Some days it hits me like a container-load of ball bearings; other days, I feel that I could operate a gantry crane.  I'm not a longshoreman--I just watched the second season of "The Wire", which is great!

     I've got other stuff too. I have a neurotransmitter implanted in my back and spine.

     Well, with this junk, literally, you'd think that the prescriptions should go right to the pharmacy. You'd think that.  Well, I lost one.  It was inevitable. This stuff, in addition to just numbing my pain (not eliminating it by a long shot) has turned my short term memory to mush. I stuck my prescription in my pocket, and it took a run through the washing machine.  So, no drugs and I have to go begging to the doc for another script.

     One thing I stink at is admitting a screwed-up. Add to this my lack of short term memory and my inability to spell my name and...well, you know. 

     Here's what I did instead: said a prayer. I asked God to help me do his will and to put someone else's needs ahead of my own.  Then I called the doc. Problem solved.

     I've thumped the idea of Faith pretty hard recently.  Most of my readers have probably run for the hills.  The point is, when I take the wheel on my own life, I most often end-up in a ditch. I have nearly gone 20 years without so much as a sip of anything alcoholic, because I was a drunk. I haven't beat the bottle, but I've beat it now. I tried my best to stop. Every trick in the book. Nothing worked until I let God back into my life. Then, with his help, I've been clean. Same with pain.  I can do it the old Irish way, but I already know where that road takes me. So now I'll do my best, pray, and hope that you don't have to make the mistakes I did. 

      It's all the same, pain or booze, death or life, faith or despair. Today I'll take a life of faith, flawed as I am, and try giving my pain to God. He knows what to do with it.  I don't. God bless you all, Colin

Comments

[Gimpy Mumpy]

Oh Colin, each time I read your posts I am reminded of my own experiences!
Your mention of morphine dredges up a multitude of emotions. I thought you may enjoy reading my comments of my experiences with morphine over here: http://timmargh.net/2006/05/its_over.php
I would also like to tip my hat to the blog on which the comment is posted. Timmothy Griffon of Timmargh.net is a wonderful blogger whose humor & wit make his horror stories of the past year pallatable (however I must warn you to only click on the pictures of his foot ulcer when you have not just eaten!).