Sunday Mop Up 11/26/06
Well, all right then! I hope you had a wonderful Turkey Day, and I trust that the carcass has been picked clean and thrown away (I'm referring to the bird here, not the relative you secretly wish to murder), as we all suffer through the turkey sandwiches, turkey tetrazini, turkey enchiladas, and/or turkey soup concoctions, trying to deal with leftovers. Enough already, say I. Pitch that bitch and let's go get a burger!
I survived my plane flights, as did the surrounding passengers, with minimal discomfort. The leg of the trip from Houston to Orlando turned out to be sold out, so I shared some time with a very cute and happy 14 year old girl who was flying to Ft. Lauderdale to be with her boyfriend and his family for the holiday. The boyfriend's mother works for Southwest, so the little girl was flying free, delighted there was even a seat available for her, and had a butt about the size of my kneecap, so I didn't squeeze her too terribly bad. I decided I loved her when I found out she was listening to Frank Sinatra on her iPod. Kids these days. Go figure.
Let's have a Meeting, shall we?
My back was a problem the whole trip. Worried that I would really be in pain from the plane ride, I accepted some help in the form of Darvocet from a dear friend who was trying to help me. I popped two upon waking up at 6am the morning I left, and felt no pain by the time we boarded. When I got to Dad's, a full 9 hours after taking the first two, I popped two more because the sharp stabbing had begun again. I crawled into bed at 7:30pm and slept like the dead until 10 am the next morning. Upon waking, I immediately popped two more because, I'm telling you, just getting out of the bed and sitting up was difficult. I felt fine within an hour. That evening, I reached for two more around dinner time.
Tuesday night I had a hard time falling asleep. Thrashed around quite a lot, and when I did finally sleep, it was fitful. I awoke in the middle of the night, feeling warm and uncomfortable. I noticed the back was a bit sore, so I reached for the pills, and popped just one. It seemed to do the trick, I was asleep within a half hour.
The next morning I knew I was headed over to my sister's house for the day, so I ate two before getting into the shower. I took a change of clothes and my pills when I went over. Had a great time checking my sister's house out. She is working hard to fix it up, while my brother-in-law is over in Iraq. we spent time laughing and catching up. Dad dropped by that evening to pick us up for a fancy dinner at one of those Japanese "watch the guy juggle the knives and whip up some stir fry for you" kinda places. My back, ever the nag, got another dose of Darvocet before we ate at about 6pm. I spent the night at my sister's and was out like a light by 9:30pm.
At 3am, I woke from another miserable sleep. But, this time, my eyes popped open when I realized that I was sweating, my heart was pounding in my chest, and I could not catch my breath. I swear to you, it felt like the bed was trying to swallow me. I pushed and kicked the covers off of me and still couldn't breathe. I sat up in the bed. Here's the weirdest part: my back did not hurt.
That's when I knew. You see, many years ago I had a brief, albeit intense relationship with a drug called cocaine. In six short months, I came perilously close to losing everything I had thanks to that shit. So, I checked myself into an outpatient rehab program, outed myself to friends, family, and boss at work - and cleaned myself up. I had to admit that I was a drug addict, and I did. I worked the 12 steps with fury and passion. I ended up finding a relationship with "God", or my "Higher Power", and I owe a great deal to The Friends of Bill for being there for me. I'm almost 4 years sober now. I still go to meetings now and then. Never felt better. No desire to get high. But that's not the point. I used a narcotic for three days straight, and my body REMEMBERED and REACTED to the fact that I was doping it again, AND WANTED MORE! The sweats, the heart palpitations, the hyperventilation, the discomfort, were all signs of me having little mini-withdrawals when the drug wore off deep in the middle of the night.
My name is Jim and I am a drug addict.
What a fool I was to think I could pop a narcotic like it was nothing. I fucking know from the program that I must be very, very careful with what kinds of drugs I put into my body. All I knew at the time was that I was in serious pain, and I wanted relief.
So, I stopped taking the pills immediately. It took me about an hour and a half to calm down that night and get back into bed and fall asleep. The next day, Thanksgiving Day, I stuck to ibuprofen. I walked like a cripple, but I didn't care. The pain reminded me that I was alive. I told my family about what had happened. I need for the people around me to be aware of my sensitivity as well. I talked with my sponsor when I got home and got my ass CHEWED, deservedly so. I'm heading to a meeting here in just a little while to share this story with others like me.
God, grant me the Serenity
to accept the things I cannot change,
The Courage to change the things that I can
and The Wisdom to know the difference.
Amen, my friends!
too bad if that bothers ya
Anybody Have Room For Dessert?
When something is this good, I never feel I'm wrong in nicking it from another blog and posting it here as well. Afterall, it comes from YouTube. But I do want to give a nod to God of Biscuits for this (even though he got it from Joe.My.God).
Bush Screws America