Pain has never been my strong suit. I am pretty much a wimp, especially when it comes to pain. And to make matters even more interesting, I don’t do too well with modern medicine’s remedy for pain, namely The Pain Medicine. I capitalize the first letter in those three words because those drugs have my utmost respect.
I used to joke about pain meds, saying things like: “Well, at least now I’ll be able to have some fun as I go through this. You know, some good drugs and relaxation to boot.”
No more. The pain meds don’t sit well with me and I have never been good at relaxation anyway. I used to shoot hundreds upon hundreds of free throws and call it meditation. And I’m still a huge wimp when it comes to pain. It scares the living crap outta me.
So, let’s start January, 2012, with some fun. First off, I get a sudden and sincerely severe attack of kidney stones. Not A kidney stone. But kidney stones. This takes me to the emergency room at my local hospital not once but twice over a period of several days. The second time, the docs opted to admit me to the hospital to try an manage my pain.
“We’re not going to be able to eliminate it, but at least we can try and minimize it,” the Doc said, not exactly ringing the bell of hope. But it was honest. The next three days, I spend in the hospital in some of the worst pain I have ever felt and that’s with IV’s shot full of morphine and an even stronger pain med called dilaudid. They had me on this heavy-duty stuff every two hours and lo and behold, there was no fun to it. Between the pain, lack of appetite and accompanying nausea that was just like clockwork every 20 minutes without fail, it was no fun at all.
Finally, they had to operate and were moderately successful. Thank God.
The day after that thrill ride through Dante’s Inferno ended and I was sent home, waiting for me there was a severe cold that turned my nose into a sprinter’s marathon. It just ran and ran and ran. Buckets full. That knocked me on my butt for the next three days, again no appetite, severe sinus headaches and just generally an all around feeling like you’ve been run over by a dump truck carrying swamp sludge.
All good things come to an end. I felt better. The cold was heading elsewhere, probably to ravage some other poor bastard. Maybe, just maybe, now I can get my feet on the ground Such crap.
I’m having dinner with my family and a friend at a local Italian restaurant, Viva La Pasta. I had the lamb and it was truly a marvel. Enjoying my family, the food, the laughter, I knew that all was right with the world. I took a strong pull from my ice-chilled glass of sparkling water. Instantly, I let out a yelp, grasping the left side of my face and reaching into my mouth to try and find the root of this pain.
Pardon the pun, but that is what that was: I had a tooth sitting on top of what now was going to be a root canal. And the hits just keep on coming. My dentist referred me to a specialist and she didn’t pull any fancy stuff and several hours later that was put to bed.
Yes, Pain. Yes, Pain meds, and, yes, relief. This little adventure stretched over 10 days, and that’s the key here: little adventure.
And old friend of mine, Bill, once remarked that God gives the big loads to guys and gals with names like Sandy, Lee, Nancy, Jerry and Sue. He gives the little loads to guys with names like Bill.
Or, most certainly, names like Steve. That’s right, names like Steve. Thank God for that.