Yippee! (Krissie)

Can’t put this on Facebook but I just had a medical professional be sensible about opioids.  First, some history.  About 8 years ago I had a crisis with my legs, and could barely walk.  I went to see a rheumatologist, who put  me on 15 mg. of Vicodin a day.  I slept in a recliner for five months, used a walker to get to the bathroom, and barely moved.  She upped the Vicodin to 30 mg. and I slowly got better.  I cut back the stuff in the daytime, taking it once a day and once a night instead of twice a day. Then I cut it out during the day and just took took 2 pills at night. at night.  A 20 day supply lasted me a month and a half, but things got worse in the country and everyone got fussy.  I tried to explain that I don’t get any positive feeling from them – apparently addicts get some kind of “warm” feeling or something.  Doesn’t do a thing to me.  I also am totally lacking the addictive gene.

They don’t listen.  They’re so used to justifications and people playing games (and opioid addiction is a tragic, terrible disease) that whatever I said went over their heads.  After 8 or more years on the stuff, with me decreasing the dose, they still thought I could get addicted.  And they started giving me stuff that tears my stomach up again as an alternative (hence me feeling like shit for the last week).

However,  I did realize I got so twitchy and defensive about the meds because everyone else in my family was addicted to them, as well as tranquilizers and alcohol.  I somehow missed that addictive gene (or maybe it wasn’t genetic and I just had a different personality).  But I felt like I was being accused of it and it pushed my buttons.  Once I realized that was my problem I chilled.  And since they were so worried I cut my meds down again to 5mg  a day with no ill effects.

I just talked to a nurse about my latest run-in with NSAIDS and she talked about maybe I should consider taking a smaller dose of vicodin during the day..  I said I didn’t want to and she asked if it made me drowsy.  I said no (it doesn’t – I drive, I act, I write with no dulling of senses).  I just didn’t want to take more meds – I’m used to living with a certain amount of pain.

But finally someone open-minded!  It was so refreshing for someone to suggest upping the meds (even though I didn’t want to do so, but meds, despite their dangers, are to make things better and sometimes people need more.  I just don’t want to take more).

And I no longer have to feel so defensive now I realize where that’s coming from with me.  They can pass judgment all they want and suspect me of furtive behavior.  It’s annoying that they can’t get over it but fortunately, I can.

Hell, growing older ain’t for sissies!

Krissie: Games People Play

Speaking of which, Joe South died recently (he’s the one who wrote and sang that, plus a number of excellent songs). But I digress.
When you live a life surrounded by alcoholics and addicts (my father, my brother, my sister, my favorite cousin, a former BFF and of course my son) you learn one thing (well, I learned many things) from Al-Anon and various readings. You can’t play the guessing game about whether the person you love is using, is high, is drunk, is whatever. When my father wasn’t drinking he was strung out on pills (uppers and downers). My sister liked cocaine, my brother liked anything, my cousin liked heroin. So I’m used to getting phone calls, visits, etc. where the loved one is slurring, falling asleep, hyper, whatever.
And you can’t play the game about is he or isn’t he? It’ll make you crazy. Basically it’s just too fucking co-dependent. You can go searching for empty bottles or stashes or pills, or you can let go and let god, because if you take the stuff away they’ll find it some other way, it you confront them or cry it’s just a waste of time. It’s not about you, it’s about them. Your higher power can’t fix it, it’s up to their HP. Continue reading

Krissie: Mother’s Little Helpers

This is me just after I’ve taken a shower. I was gonna wait till I go swimming tomorrow and then remembered this is Palm Sunday and I ought to get my ass to church. And so I shall.
Both my mother and Richie are feeling better today (well, they’re not awake yet but they were feeling better yesterday so I’ll assume things are even better today).
Yesterday I went to the basement, emptied a small bookcase, carted it over to my mother’s, emptied out the dresser in her bathroom (she said it took up too much space), washed the floor beneath it, put the new bookcase in and rearranged her stuff, had her go through the stuff in her drawers (with me holding things up) and got rid of a bunch, hauled the old dresser out to my car, hung up a couple of linen towels she got in Cambridge in her bathroom, headed home and slept for four hours. Woke up, ate leftovers, watched tv, went back to bed (four hours after I’d woken up) and slept like a rock through the night. Yawn.
Okay, first off, weight. It popped back up above 235 and has been bopping between 236 and 238 for a week. Annoying. Then again, I only exercised once last week. Gotta bring it back to three times, but I couldn’t on Friday because they were holding a town memorial service for the murdered teacher (I swim at the school where she worked). So awful.
So I’m using NettieD (and been staying under my allotted amount, so it must be exercise) and I should have a big drop sometime this week.
I always start thinking of stuff when I read the comments, and I was thinking about pills. My mother’s devoted to her pills and always has been, particularly her tranks, and my father got strung out on pills so badly he had DT’s when they detoxed him in the hospital. So I know from pills. But I grew up thinking pills were the answer to every ailment. Continue reading

Krissie: Boys

So, for a week, at least, I’m going to take my photo with Photobooth first thing and put it in the blog. Not sure what that will accomplish, but hey, a touch of reality. Today the house is cold so I’m wrapped in a quilt I made and a pashmina Karen Harbaugh gave me(I’m not usually swathed like a mummy).
But I digress — the topic of the day is boys. Why do they break our hearts more than the girls? Oh, both of them can, I know, and little girls can be just as vulnerable as little boys can. But there’s just something so heartbreaking about boys. I remember once, driving through town and seeing a ten year old on a street corner, alone, hunched beneath his backpack, looking so fragile that I burst into tears. Seriously.
I don’t know if it’s because little boys are more prone to learning differences (the Serpent’s Tooth has major dyslexia). I would expect they’re also more prone to Aspergers, autism, and ADHD, though that’s a guess. We want so desperately to protect them, to slay dragons for them. In my case I slew too many, and of course in the end I couldn’t slay all of them. I had to give him up to save him (special, uber-expensive “troubled teen” schools that at least kept him alive until his brain could mature enough). Continue reading