Kinsler: And a special thanks to my over-worked angels
Whew. I think I am saved.
Due to my loud and frequent complaints everyone knows that I came factory-equipped with a back whose bones and sinews were unworthy of this year's Chitlin Festival. Thus far I’ve needed two corrective surgeries (2014 and last month) and while I still have some predictable pain from the latter, I feel relatively okay.
I’m taking opioids to deal with the pain, which would have been fine had I not burdened my feeble wits with the certainty, based upon no evidence at all, that I’d become addicted — thoroughly and completely — to the opioid pain killers I’ve been using..
The cure rate for opioid addiction is around 5%, which means that I was doomed: losing my repair business, my home here in Lancaster, the cats, and Natalie.
I was devastated, enough to disturb Housecat #1, who insisted on jumping up to my lap to purr. He notified Housecat #2, who began threading herself through my ankles. When I idly grasped her tail she cheerfully flopped over, four paws in the air, to receive her undercarriage treatment. They’d seen that something was wrong and continually renewed their attempts to distract me.
I slouched into the bedroom to grieve, for there’s no way to wiggle out of a mess like this. Then Natalie took one look at me and without hesitation called the doctor.
I wasn’t invited into the subsequent conversation, but it was clear that the two women decided that I, and they, would be far better off if my head was initially cleared of medical fantasies.
I learned that while cases vary, it seems that the short time (ten days) elapsed since my operation is way insufficient to kindle any significant addiction. The worst that might be said is that I’d become “opioid-dependent,) which in fact is common after surgery.
Oh.
[Author’s note.] The alert reader may have noticed that almost all of the episodes related here each week include the ultimate outcome, mostly to benefit the reader. (Natalie claims that it’s permissible to peek when digesting her gory British novels.)
Today’s column is supplied with no such resolution because I don’t know if there will be a happy ending. I think/hope/pray that Natalie and my beleaguered medical team will prevail. But please note, as I have, that prescription-fueled addiction remains far too common and tough to cure.
So beware, cautions Natalie.
Mark Kinsler, kinsler33@gmail.com, lives, writes, and heals along with Natalie and the two aforementioned watch cats in our little house in Lancaster. If you suspect that a friend has acquired a prescription-related addiction, contact the patient’s physician or the nearest pharmacist for better advice than I can give. And bless you for trying.
This article originally appeared on Lancaster Eagle-Gazette: Kinsler: And a special thanks to my over-worked angels
