I’m miserable.

I’m throwing myself a pity party. I’m the only one on the guest list but still, no one showed up.

I had minor knee surgery last week so I am stuck in a leg brace on my recliner. The last 5 days have been one melted candle of playing on the computer, going to the restroom, strategizing my next shower and hunting pain pills like Easter eggs every 6 hours since Amanda has to hide them around the house so that I don’t eat all of them at once. Like Pavlov’s dog, I would sit and anxiously wait for the text message letting me know where the next dose has been hidden. I made my history of addiction with my doctor very clear so he prescribed medicine accordingly (which seemed like a really bad idea after waking up from surgery), but there was still a need for at least a minor amount of opiates. Almost too fucking minor.

On our way home from the hospital, Amanda and I went to the pharmacy to pick up my post-op meds. I felt like I had a pretty good recovery plan but apparently Amanda and I had differing views of what pain management should look like. My post-op negotiation went like this:

Me: “Just give me half the bottle now and when I wake up, I will take the other half. Deal?”

Amanda: “I will give you 2 every six hours, like prescribed.”

Me: “Give me 8 every 4 hours unless the pain gets to be too much.”

Amanda: “I will give you 2 every six hours, like prescribed.”

Me: “Ok, I’m willing to negotiate. Give me 4 every 2 hours.”

Amanda: “I will give you 2 every six hours, like prescribed.”

We must have studied different textbooks when it came to pharmaceuticals.

Being an addict makes the knowledge that any amount of drug is available all-consuming. It’s exhausting. I never want the supply to end yet all I want is for it to run out so I can stop thinking about the next inadequate dose that is not going to be enough. I can’t shake the idea of having just a few more. I don’t want to take them, yet I don’t want to know that they are here and I didn’t take them, but I want them, yet it is not enough, but I wish I could have more, yet I wish they were gone. Even though they are not enough to get me high, I know that it could be and that is what makes it worse.

The pills are gone now and it is just me and a bum knee. I have a place on the recliner, a wife who is tending to me, a job that allows me to earn while sitting down but a conscience that doesn’t permit me to be at ease because things are not on my terms. The fact that I cannot get up and go for a run eats away at me, The fact of not being able to get in my car and drive wherever I want makes me crazy. I don’t necessarily want to do any of these things but not having the option is unsettling.

The truth of the matter is that I would prefer to be right here, doing this exact thing on any given day. The problem is that I am forced to be here doing this- doing exactly what I would want to be doing anyway- with the only problem being that it is not on my terms.

Living life on life terms. This does not come easy for me. Wouldn’t it be nice if there was a program for people who have a hard time with this? 🤔

In spite of my neurosis, it is going to be a good day today. I can feel it.

Peace, Love and all things Beef related,