Nickering

I’m equal parts intrigued and disturbed by my blossoming Dilaudid habit. Who knew that after a life time free of substance abuse, or any inclination towards it, I would get the chance to glimpse addiction from the consumer side, always helpful if you want to actually understand something like that.

In the emergency room on the night of my accident they’d given me a couple of shots-in-the-ass of Demerol to no avail whatsoever. Awaiting surgery, I had spent the next three days taking as much Oxycodon as the doctor prescribed. Truly my mother’s son, I would never take more. On the day of the operation, in addition to the general anesthesia, they gave me a “pain block” which was stunningly effective. I woke up in the recovery room groggy but pretty much pain free. The block was still in effect, I was told. A few hours later a persistent thrum of pain set in, and I drifted in and out of CNN dreams, unable to see out the window but told that there’d been a big snow storm and that the whole city was paralyzed. I became an expert at using the “1—10” pain scale, and for the next twenty four hours, whenever asked, I consistently answered the nurses with a terse, “Ten”. I finally arrived at Dilaudid by way of Oxycodon and IV Morphine. I could never tell exactly when it went into effect; only that roughly two hours after ingesting it, the pain became just this side of bearable. And that was enough for me. I wasn’t looking for recreation, just something to stave off misery with a sharp stick.

A week later at my follow-up appointment I was told that I needed to “begin to taper the Dilaudid”, my persistent pain not withstanding. This edict was delivered to me about the same time that somebody told me that they’d googled Dilaudid and discovered that it was highly habit forming. I’ve always been somebody who hates putting pills of any kind into my mouth and whose addictions don’t tend towards pharmaceuticals, so I wasn’t that concerned. On the contrary I found it a little annoying that I wasn’t at least getting a pinch of pleasure in exchange for this enforced breach in my behavioral norm

Still, I remember that in the morning, after each horrible tortured night, I’d toddle out of my borrowed patio chaise lounge into pre-dawn darkness, pop three pills, turn on the TV, and wait for deliverance by the Early Bird news. And in those moments, sipping my unnaturally cherished cup of coffee, I’d get just a sliver of a back door feeling of peace. My friend, who had been an addict for several life-destroying years, told me that Dalaudid is a heroin addict’s favorite substitute, but you could have fooled me because my use of it was strictly tied up with my pain, one end of a miserable teeter totter between wretched ache and oblivion. But there was that nickering of peace.

So now it’s six weeks later, and even though I’ve been tapering, I was sitting on the couch in therapy this morning and it dawned on me that, as my friend so aptly described it, “the curtain” had come down. I was at peace just sitting there in my little pillow posture on the couch. I’ll be damned if my life isn’t in a breath taking careen of change, but at that moment I didn’t care, because I was behind the curtain.

My friend warned me that this was a good moment to be careful, and Dear Reader, I agree.

Campbell Brown

I was standing in line at Best Buy, looking to exchange my new 24” HDTV for a 26” one. The guy in front of me, a vaguely gnarly outdoorsy type was exclaiming on his cell phone something bout “so now it’s back to the grind”. I didn’t think much of it, focused as I was on the length and lack of movement in the Exchange/Returns line. Sheesh!!* He had a Tivo in a box on the floor in front of him right next to my TV in a box and I impulsively asked him what a Tivo costs. He garrulously launched into a story starting with "$250" and then on to something about not being able to get a cash back refund, followed by a running observation on the age and training of Best Buy staff with which I wholly concurred. I volunteered my purpose in line and he enthusiastically urged me to go “bigger, bigger!!” I told him it's all I could afford, getting divorced, etc etc….and it turns out he’s just got divorced too and has a theory about what a guy needs to get started again….a micro wave, a large screen TV. And I said "don’t forget a computer" and he goes, “oh yeah, ya gotta have the naked ladies” So we proceeded in this rapt conversation until at some point, I’m not exactly sure what queued me, but I realized I was talking to Livingston Taylor. I was star struck, as Anna said the time we met Campbell Brown at a dinner party in Newton, but managed to maintain some conversational functionality. But when he asked me my name and then forthrightly introduced himself and there was no use pretending anymore, so I reverted to geeky fan. I did manage briefly to get back into the moment when apropos of I forget exactly what he boisterously pounded me on my slinged left arm, of which he wasn't aware cuz it was draped with my cape-like overcoat. When I revealed the sling and told him that my attorney would be contacting him in the morning we both had a good laugh and then his number got called. Before he left, he called out across Bestbuy-Space, “So long Chris!” and I said something partially geeky like “keep on keeping on!” and that was it. And then I went to analysis.

*thanks Bill

Maiden Voyage

Once I bust thru the tissue of self consciousness I should be ok.

Wanted to do this for a long time but needed a sign. I broke my arm by falling flat on an icy sidewalk at midnight on December 9 (auspicious date) and nothing's been the same since. I still haven't gone back to work yet and although today was to have been the day a big snow storm has intervened rendering the environment icy and inhospitable, and lord knows I need a hospitable environment to step back into. So instead I'm starting my first blog toady....and no that's not a typo.

Since I'm the only one who knows my blog address....Good Luck to me!!