Silver Tongued Devil

I have three drafts sitting in limbo. Three recent attempts to write.

It sounds pretentious when I say "to write." Like I am some literary genius sharing my gift to the world.

Its just a blog. When I originally fired this thing up, it made me feel special. I was excited. I now realize that trillions of people maintain blogs. I am facing the fact that this may lead nowhere and that all I am doing is fooling myself.

A harsh thought indeed if all I am left with is the most predictable of lives.

Anyway I hate it when the words do not come. I hate it because writing comes easily to me. Which probably explains why I am just a wannabe. I am probably not trying hard enough.

Sometimes I'll look back over what I have written and realize it just sucks, so I don't post it. The drafts sit out there waiting for me to come back and give them another shot. Sometimes I do and I succeed. Sometimes I don't and I delete.

But that is not why I came here today.

I talked Dr. Feelgood into prescribing for me..........................pain killers.

I am a silver tongued devil.

I figured I had no chance in hell. She is aware of my loving relationship with the brown liquid. She is one of these by-the-book, dried-up, old school types who leaves no room for improvisation.

But I had to try.

Had the first session of physical therapy yesterday afternoon. The dude figures I have pinched nerves in my neck. He is theorizing that the constant one sided lifting that I do has closed up the hole between some vertebrae so the nerves are under constant attack. We talked a lot and then he did some manipulatin'.

The joint is called  the Center for Sports Medicine & Orthopaedic Rehabilitation. It was interesting to me because on the sports medicine side, which is where I was, patients were coming and going energetically. Apparently  a lot of them are athletes. It felt odd to me because typically a hospital environment is kind of downcast, kind of slow moving and pain filled.

However, on the orthopaedic side of the house were a lot of elderly people. When I came to the bottom of the stairs, one direction led to the old folk who were congregated around a TV, the other direction led to sports medicine and happy, shining people.

I was pleased to be heading to sports medicine.

Anyway, nothing the therapist did caused me any increase in pain. Some of his moves seemed to lessen it.

Nevertheless, by the time I got home the pain was significant. I had placed a call the day before to the good Dr., seeking relief. Her office called back around five last night.

One of her minions. She is too valued to talk directly to a low level substance abuser like me.

Anyway Dr. F took pity. Five minutes after I got off the phone I was back on the phone to the pharmacy. "Has my Doctor called in a Vicodin prescription?" "Nope."

I waited 45 minutes and called the pharmacy again. I felt like a drug addict. This time the answer was yes.

I was standing in the pharmacy before I got off the phone. Fifteen minutes before they closed. Felt like I had won the lottery.

The first pill disappointed me. It lessened the pain but did not kill it. Kind of like separating from your spouse but not getting divorced.

Took a second at bed time which enabled me to sleep until 4:45 a.m.

I woke up in pain and dropped another magic pill.

That's when I realized how easy it would be to become addicted to pain killers.

I crawled back in to bed with my neck, shoulder and back throbbing. Laid there waiting for sweet relief. It took some time and it was difficult to lay still. I felt it begin to kick in; I felt the pain slowly slip away. It was an absolutely delicious feeling.

Which was great until I woke up - in pain - at 7:30.

That cycle would be so easy to repeat.

I have not taken another one yet today and I will not until bed time. Unless work really kicks my ass.

Perspective: I don't have cancer, I haven't had a stroke or a heart attack. So I am not that bad off.

What I am learning though, is that constant pain is maddening. It never stops, you clench your teeth, you keep moving. It keeps you awake, which exacerbates  the strain.

I was on the phone with a customer at work, a guy who kept hammering me with questions, when I suddenly threw the receiver down on the desk. The two co-workers who were in the office with me were stunned.

I picked the phone up and told him I had dropped it.

This is what constant pain and lack of sleep does to you.

I am now scheduled for eight more physical therapy sessions - two a week for four weeks. How the hell I am going to pull that off with my work schedule is beyond me.

But I am going to give it a shot because it feels like the right solution.

When this pain is finally gone I will be one grateful son of a bitch.

As I was leaving the therapist's office I asked if he had any advice for helping me to sleep.

He showed me how to stretch my spine by placing my hands under my chin and pushing my head upward, as if I were trying to remove my head. Said this would temporarily free up the nerves a little bit, maybe enough to allow me to fall asleep.

An image haunts me of Therapist Man laughingly mimicking the head removal technique in front of his friends as they sip fine wine in an ultra chic health food spa.

But you gotta trust somebody.