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mmmmmmmmmmmm
Apr. 25th, 2008 06:59 pmLortab = creamy goodness
I've been so busy here at the Desk of SUCK that I feel I've worked a week already. More busyness today, and the remainder of the week. I don't really have time to be on LJ, but can't seem to stay away.
I have pain in so many different places, I can't keep track. Some of it, I suspect, is rebound pain from the codeine - the pain seems to magnify when the drug wears off; some of it is from stress - my teeth and face hurt from clenching my jaws; my knee is bothering me, but I wore a low heel today anyway. (read: stupid) Didn't have any cough syrup last night, did alright. Had some this morning, because of the facial pain mostly, but also to make it easier to walk. It doesn't touch the pain in my knee, but it makes me care less.
Scarlett's "tea" was last night. It was very nice. She didn't win her division for the entire county, but she was recognized along with the 5th graders from other schools. Her father, stepmother, and sisters came, and we were all glad they could get there. It was a very long drive for them. Two of my aunts, and a cousin came, as well as my parents. She was well represented. Neither her teacher nor her principal came, although there were three students from her school. I guess they knew ahead of time that she wasn't going to win, and had other things to do. I'm going to grab the anthology tonight and type up her story here on LJ. For internet posterity.
I could talk about Brent, but we spent the night rehashing some old wounds for him, with some strong admonitions on my part to move on, distract himself until he can let go of his pain, and even some encouragement toward hospitalization. He won't hear of it now that he's sober again, but at least the ideas are getting planted in his mind. Scott Adams (WHOM I LOVE!) has mentioned in his blog a theory that people begin to believe something once they've written it down, even if they write down a lie to begin with. I should give Brent some of that information.
I think I will.
Aaahhh, the cough syrup just kicked in. Now I'm off to conquer the world, or at least West Virginia.
I have pain in so many different places, I can't keep track. Some of it, I suspect, is rebound pain from the codeine - the pain seems to magnify when the drug wears off; some of it is from stress - my teeth and face hurt from clenching my jaws; my knee is bothering me, but I wore a low heel today anyway. (read: stupid) Didn't have any cough syrup last night, did alright. Had some this morning, because of the facial pain mostly, but also to make it easier to walk. It doesn't touch the pain in my knee, but it makes me care less.
Scarlett's "tea" was last night. It was very nice. She didn't win her division for the entire county, but she was recognized along with the 5th graders from other schools. Her father, stepmother, and sisters came, and we were all glad they could get there. It was a very long drive for them. Two of my aunts, and a cousin came, as well as my parents. She was well represented. Neither her teacher nor her principal came, although there were three students from her school. I guess they knew ahead of time that she wasn't going to win, and had other things to do. I'm going to grab the anthology tonight and type up her story here on LJ. For internet posterity.
I could talk about Brent, but we spent the night rehashing some old wounds for him, with some strong admonitions on my part to move on, distract himself until he can let go of his pain, and even some encouragement toward hospitalization. He won't hear of it now that he's sober again, but at least the ideas are getting planted in his mind. Scott Adams (WHOM I LOVE!) has mentioned in his blog a theory that people begin to believe something once they've written it down, even if they write down a lie to begin with. I should give Brent some of that information.
I think I will.
Aaahhh, the cough syrup just kicked in. Now I'm off to conquer the world, or at least West Virginia.
There has been a bottle of codeine cough syrup on my dining table since Scarlett was sick last year. Most of the time I ignore it, on occasion it crosses my mind in a fleeting thought before my attention zings off.
Last night I had a nagging deep cough that kept jarring me awake as I'd drift off. I was up late and feeling wired, fretting that I'd never sleep. And suddenly the bottle filled my mind, backlit like Cybill Shepard when she was Moonlighting. I took a mouthful, and crawled back under the covers.
No more coughing.
When I awoke two hours later, I was overwhelmed at the wash of sweet pleasure I'd tried so hard to push out of my mind these last months. All was right in my world, my body was filled with peace, my thoughts were sweet and kind. As I laid back down after a restroom visit, I prayed "Lord please let me feel like this all the time" before I chastised myself for asking Jesus to give me drugs. I drifted back into oblivion, and although I was awakened perhaps twice more before morning, at each awakening I purred with contentment, wrapped in those warm narcotic arms.
The morning was good, and only in those last few minutes before I started the Grand Am did I grow impatient and growly with my daughter. After several second thoughts, I grabbed the bottle and brought it to work. Ostensibly for the cough, which hasn't materialized yet. It's strongest at night, when I'm exposed to the cats and when my sinuses are inclined to drain back instead of forward.
In truth, I'm configuring an excuse for another mouthful. I ache for that feeling that I can conquer the world - take yoga and walk a mile at lunch, eat a salad and quit drinking Diet Coke. I crave the relaxation of muscle and mind. I'm broken-hearted at my lack of joy now that the narcotic effect has waned.
If I can go months without it, how can I be an addict?
Last night I had a nagging deep cough that kept jarring me awake as I'd drift off. I was up late and feeling wired, fretting that I'd never sleep. And suddenly the bottle filled my mind, backlit like Cybill Shepard when she was Moonlighting. I took a mouthful, and crawled back under the covers.
No more coughing.
When I awoke two hours later, I was overwhelmed at the wash of sweet pleasure I'd tried so hard to push out of my mind these last months. All was right in my world, my body was filled with peace, my thoughts were sweet and kind. As I laid back down after a restroom visit, I prayed "Lord please let me feel like this all the time" before I chastised myself for asking Jesus to give me drugs. I drifted back into oblivion, and although I was awakened perhaps twice more before morning, at each awakening I purred with contentment, wrapped in those warm narcotic arms.
The morning was good, and only in those last few minutes before I started the Grand Am did I grow impatient and growly with my daughter. After several second thoughts, I grabbed the bottle and brought it to work. Ostensibly for the cough, which hasn't materialized yet. It's strongest at night, when I'm exposed to the cats and when my sinuses are inclined to drain back instead of forward.
In truth, I'm configuring an excuse for another mouthful. I ache for that feeling that I can conquer the world - take yoga and walk a mile at lunch, eat a salad and quit drinking Diet Coke. I crave the relaxation of muscle and mind. I'm broken-hearted at my lack of joy now that the narcotic effect has waned.
If I can go months without it, how can I be an addict?
