My Drug Free Days or How I Escaped the Prescription Mill

Well, after a two year silence, where I was condemned to spend my time in a permanent haze to work while in pain, I have come back to tell the tale.

It's a sad tale, one fraught with confusion, neurological degradation and a landscape littered with upset friends and family.  Associated characters include a somewhat schizo part time contractor, an art collecting gay doctor, two bumbling attorneys and a whole host of pain clinics and treatments.

I begin slowly, as typing appears to not be a great thing to do when not medicated.  My neck has seen many days of pain and abuse, including multiple years of martial arts sparring and at the least, six separate whiplash injuries.  At this time in my life, my spine doesn't have one disk that isn't herniated, from the top of my neck to the base of my tailbone.  As one might imagine, this creates an untenable situation for a person who earns money via a keyboard.  Now to be honest, they are truly paying for my brain power, however it is all delivered on a keyboard and a conference phone.  I spend ALL day instant messaging in a company of a quarter of a million people, answering an average of 250-300 emails daily, writing software development estimates, texting, talking on conference calls, managing an inbox constantly so it doesn't blow up, assisting in debugging software failures and defects and filling out forms, surveys and taking online courses; to name some of my daily activities.  And, of course, it truly doesn't stop when the work bell rings to a close; I continue to text, play scrabble, use my smart phone to look things up I want to know instantly, and manage the work for two college courses.  Typing is non stop from morning till night.

Enter the pain and general anxiety.

It began slowly and then rapidly ramped up to take over every thought and every waking moment of my day.  Rapidly, I felt out of control and incapable of functioning in the way I required to accomplish all the things I do daily.  I went from my normally matter of fact self to a lunatic who couldn't type without excruciating pain and subsequently ceased to be able to think while the pain slowly took me over.  I ended every day, as Pink Floyd would say, tight as a funeral drum, and in tears.  I was so wound up, I couldn't sleep, my activities were all infringed upon and generally I was a pretty sad person.

And onto the stage steps the schizo contractor and quasi friend.  He decides my life would improve if I adopted HIS doctor as mine.  I knew he had an endless supply of pain medication, which I would avail myself of every so often to take the edge off this spiraling condition, so I reasoned, why not?  It would be less expensive than plumping up his SSI budget by paying him for pain meds, so off I went to the doctor in question.  So, that introduces the doctor to this story.  I went to consult with him, and almost immediately ended up on a pain management program administered through his office.  And I was sent to the first of a collection of pain clinics, where I was racking up a pile of bills and spending three days a week getting physical therapy and chiropractic care (my chiropractor didn't want to work with me after the MRI's of my spine appeared) and a pile of exercises and home exercise equipment, blah blah blah.

On this continued, for over two years, until one day, I realized I was taking enough drugs to kill a racehorse on a daily basis, and my mind had melted into a puddle.  I had a massive falling out with the doctor and left his practice.  I was calling around to find someone to take his place, when I had an epiphany.  I didn't want a doctor to hold power over me with a prescription pad, and I truly wanted my mind back.

So I abruptly stopped taking five separate, mind bending, body destroying drugs and entered a month of hell.  Withdrawal was a complete nightmare; I was unable to work, ended up with two in completes for my school semester and dropped 10 pounds in 3 weeks, unable to eat or digest food.  I averaged two hours sleep for a month, until I was about ready to rave myself into insanity.

Then, it started to get better.  I could think, read a novel for the first time in many many moons, my friends were all delighted to be able to actually talk to me, I could stay awake in a movie, and my sleep pattern finally adjusted itself.  I can eat, but here we are 8 weeks later, and it's still a sketchy thing.  I trust it will improve.

The pain?  Oddly enough, it's way better than it was in the beginning of this saga, but I am well aware that it lurks there in the background.  I opted for the month of hell rather than checking into a detox clinic because I didn't want any palliative treatment for the withdrawal symptoms but rather wanted to feel every bit of the agony it took to cease that treatment.  So I am not inclined to take anything more than an aspirin to deal with the pain, and when it gets to be too much, I just take a nap.  I won't go back down that road unless I am in an end of life situation; I will just deal with this and alleviate as best I can with exercise and stretching.

So I'm back assembling the broken pieces I created while dealing with this train wreck.  I feel reasonably positive and actually happy and content sometimes, and I am ready to take on new challenges while I clear the decks of the things I left behind while fixing this mess.

Time to publish this.  I hope someone benefits from this story.

Contemplation of mortality - Dedicated to Christopher

It has been awhile since I wrote a blog here - I've been insanely work busy and there have been so many losses and difficulties in my life; I honestly didn't have anything to say about them.

But now I do have something to say. This blog subject brings to mind my sweet business partner and close friend, with whom I spent an inordinate amount of time discussing the subject of the purpose of life quite a few years ago. He was younger and struggling with the concept of why he was on the planet and we talked and talked about this for many hours.

So I address these thoughts to him in a way, at least our discussions are on my mind while I write this.

Whomever knows me knows that I have been struggling for about two years now with medical issues, mostly ones that create a great deal of physical pain. I am not one to give up easily, so I have been stubbornly working on these issues; sometimes accepting assistance from the medical community and sometimes ignoring their advice and following my gut as to what I should do to recover from all this pain.

Now I am faced with a new medical challenge; one that may just end my life. So the idea of mortality is certainly in the forefront of my mind and I have given a lot of thought to my purpose and what I should do now. I have not shared this situation with too many people since it is so inconclusive at this point, and I cannot handle people's reactions to it, nor do I have any clear answers as to what is going to happen next. Diagnosis is unclear so far, so I feel no need to tell this to many people.

I find, facing this situation, that my view of life is different now. The things I thought were important may not necessarily be all that important at all, and there are clearly different things that are most definitely of great importance to me.

First of all, what is of least importance are things, stuff, possessions - the things I have accumulated over a lifetime hold little significance to me at this point. It's not that I ceased loving to read, watch films or listen to my beloved music - but the acquisition of things just isn't all that important. I find myself wanting to just pile up all the things and disburse them to people who may need them or may find these miscellaneous things to be of importance to them. I want to be surrounded with simplicity and beauty more than anything. My love for awesome natural beauty has become even stronger than it ever was; I want to hear the ocean crashing on the shore, sit by Sunset Lake and just listen to the birds singing while watching the beautiful expanse of water. I want to smell salt water and the fragrance of flowers; I want to watch the sunset over the ocean. I want to see the black sky filled with all the stars while sitting on a mountaintop in Vermont, where all one can hear are the night sounds there; wind rustling the leaves on the trees, tiny critters scrambling about on the forest floor, the hooting of the owls and the sounds the insects make at night. I want to see the mountain lit up by a full moon, so bright that one needs no extra light to be able to navigate around in the woods. I want to sit and watch the day fade and be in that beautiful dusk time, where the sky is a stunning color of dusky blue and see all the trees in sharp contrast to the sky. I want to sit in Stickney Brook, watching the water moving down the stepped rocks. I want to look at the sun shining on the trees after an ice storm, where the branches glisten with the reflected light.

I want to see places I have never seen before - the stark landscape of the Southwest, the Great Barrier Reef in Australia, the palm trees waving in the breeze in Hawaii and the amazing antiquities of ancient Peruvian architecture, built by a mysterious civilization oh so many years ago.

Setting aside for a moment the things that I want to see and do, what is more urgent to me right now is understanding what is really important about life and the purpose of my existence. It seems that one gets really wrapped up in the everyday minutia of life; survival on the basic level, earning a living, providing oneself with shelter, food, clothing and all that stuff that is needed to exist. While being wrapped up in the details, it seems to me that the larger picture is often missed, since the details are so time consuming. What have I contributed to this planet during my time here?

Immediately what comes to my mind is that I am leaving behind a legacy; my daughter. She is the best and sometimes the worst of me; I put in an inordinate amount of my time and energy and resources to raise her to become the articulate, intelligent and capable adult that she has grown to be. Her existence is because of me, so whatever she gives back to the planet, in an oddly indirect way, I have given to the planet. This strangely comforts me somewhat.

Setting that aside, what exactly is my purpose here? Life is, you aren't exactly asked to be born, you don't stand up and volunteer to become; one day you are born and you are a citizen of the planet automatically.

What have I done to give back to the planet any thanks for the things I have enjoyed in my time here; that awesome natural beauty that I love so dearly, the delight I take in the sounds of music or the well written words of a good book. I think back over my years and try to determine what precisely have I done here of value?

I am known to be way too altruistic; it has taken all of my 57 years to obtain the ability to say no and I have been systematically eliminating all the users out of my life. This is recognized as growth apparently - although the altruist in me still rebels against it inside strongly. I do see that it is better to surround yourself with people that aren't just taking things from you, but rather to cherish the ones that love you and give you things back as well. I am also known to be very generous and I will give things to people without thought of the effects it might have on me long term.

So, ok, I have given a lot of people stuff - what kind of a contribution is that really? How have I contributed value to the planet at all? I diligently donate money to charitable organizations that have as a mission something I view to be of value; either enabling people to help themselves change their situations or groups that help animals or help to preserve the planet. Was that my purpose in life? My daughter calls me a patron of the arts, as I will frequently help artists and musicians in many ways. Was that what I was supposed to give to the planet? I view culture and arts as valuable things; they enrich people's lives and enable people to express their ideas and feelings. However, in the long run, what kind of contribution is that really? Does it have any meaning or any lasting value? I have spent a bunch of time over my life teaching and tutoring people in various subjects; was that what I was supposed to be doing to help? Was I supposed to help develop other people's abilities to advance their lives? I have loved people in my life and we were happy together, was I just meant to contribute happiness to someone's life? Somehow these things, while not trivial, don't really feel like a large contribution to the world.

Looking at the big picture, what really is important and is it really necessary for me to be concerned that I made any contribution at all? Was it a responsibility of mine to change the world in some way? Was I just supposed to be here, working, paying taxes, helping a small child become a contributing adult, giving people love or money or gifts, what exactly am I supposed to have done to justify my existence?

This is the puzzle, the conundrum that my friend and I debated for a long period of time. At that time, I was concerned about his well being and the struggle he was facing more than I was concerned about my own world view honestly. Now it has a relevance to me that I couldn't have imagined I would be here facing right now, struggling to find the same answer for myself. I feel a responsibility somehow, a strong idea that I should have been contributing something to the world community and that somehow I have not done that. It's not that I feel as if I am a complete failure, it's more that I sense that I have missed something in the big picture and while I still have breath in my body, I should work to rectify whatever it was that I have missed.


Here again, a blog I wrote a year ago and didn't publish.  The life threatening illness is no longer, and I have found a purpose to focus on - food politics.  So this self examination was good and my mind is stronger and I move forward.  Hope I will have company on this journey.

Learning how to say no

SO, my mom passed away this year, as anyone who knows me would be aware of...when this occurred, I engaged a grief counselor to help me cope with overwhelming feelings of fury that I could not identify.

So we are past that - months have passed and I clearly understand the basis of my feelings regarding this situation. I can't claim to have fully integrated everything that I have lost this year and all the resultant feelings, however I have a fairly firm handle on why I feel what I am feeling, and a growing acceptance that this particular loss in my life has created a hole that will never really be filled by a different thing than a mother.

However, I have continued to consult with the therapist, because, somehow, cosmically, I ended up with a grief counselor that specializes in relationships. Again, for those who know me, they know full well what a disaster I am when it comes to intimacy and love type relationships. Or, as my friend Linda is fond of saying, "my picker is broken".

So this very expensive therapist is attempting to work with me on something my daughter has been trying to get me to do for years, to say NO to people. I am the ultimate altruist and a premier nurturer, again, trying to fill holes in my life that exist, that cannot really be filled in the way I try to - you just don't get a simple do over in your life...you try to reconcile what has occurred in your life and try to make a life that works for you, based on what you learn and know about yourself. This is what I am now trying to do. Unfortunately, it involves shedding people like dry skin in winter and, after all the losses I have already had this year, this is not an easy task for me. But I am doing it - with thought and purpose, I am shaking off the myriad of dependencies people have placed on me and learning how to be free and happy with myself.

So....eliminating this behavior pattern and the people that feed from me leaves yet another hole in my life - one that I haven't quite figured out how to fill yet. I am considering many ways to do this, but I'm not entirely certain I am ready to fill up the holes quite yet. This type of change and growth isn't a simple thing, and I can't pull the answer off a shelf and voila, magically have everything be fine. I am spending an inordinate amount of time thinking and not doing much yet - except for the sedate walks I am allowed by my gigantic pile of medical professionals, another thing one tends to inherit with the delight of aging. I am working out in my mind where I want to be, what I want to be doing and what process I am going to go through to get all this to happen.

Someone used to frequently tell me that happiness is optional - I think everyone should get to have some happiness in their lives, the pursuit of happiness shouldn't be fruitless and is, oddly enough, one of our constitutional rights.

OK - I read this 2 years later in draft form and decide I should post it - I have not only shed a gigantic pie of people in my life; I have also shed the medical machine for the most part and regained some sanity and extra money in the process.   I still suck at relationships, but I don't have all that many of them currently, and the ones I have seem to have some staying power and understanding.

Jury is out on all of this - I press on.