Almost made it to week 2
Wow, what a hellish week this has been.
The week in pain in review, whereby our hero fights his way back to reality
After I returned from Portland a week ago today, I was modestly optimistic. Was just discharged, stuffed into a car and fired northward. Later I discovered that I had been discharged with only short-acting painkillers. This turned in a very very big deal saturday night, as I tried to manage the pain every 3 hours. The label >said< "1-3 every 3 hours" (this is 5mg Oxycodone). I was dropping 6 of these at a time and barely able to move. So after eventually making it through, the wife and I up and checked me into the Harborview emergency room, because you see, if you get discharged from a hospital in one state on a weekend, hell would rather freeze over than aid you with medications, particularly Schedule II narcotics, in another state, before the following Monday or probably later.
Spent >4< hours in the emergency room, a place of smells, groans and desperation like a bus-stop from hell before I was moved to the antiseptic ER 100 yards away. Spent 30 minutes there then was hustled off to X-Ray for another set (again, because those in Portland may as well never have existed), then back to the E.R. Remember that I have a foot long scar on my back:
But the thing is, back injuries are apparently the most common justification for folk trying to score narcotics, so I fit all the parameters. Wife even dressed up as to not look like my co-addict, but may have gone too far and looked >too< good, leading to more suspicion.
Anyway, finally left, close to 6 hours later, in much pain, with a short prescription for long-acting oxy-codone. Sort of slept that night, but was still in much pain.
The story since Sunday has been a mixture of drug-hazed emotion and pain. I urge everybody, DON'T RISK BREAKING YOUR BACK. It really is life-changing. Today is perhaps the first day that I have not felt like complete shit, and I still feel sort pretty intense pain when I move my lefts at all. Walking is a major chore. But >can< walk, and apparently I will walk, so I am largely going to be OK. Yaay me. List of things I can't do for a while that I used to do:
Climbing
Motorcycle riding
Home repair
Surfing
Mechanical work
Digging
Lifting
Annnnnd for the win
Snowboarding.
This whole process has been, and will likely continue to be, one of revelations. As a immigrant to this country, I have always envied those who have family here a built in social system that can come to their aid and in turn asks and provides a support system. For some reason I didn't place as much emphasis on non-blood family, and here is my first revelation. The US is so vast and complex that most folk are probably going to be, in some way, new to an area and far from home. Even though I have lived in Seattle for going on 20 years now, I never really counted too many friends up here, a combo of my moving back and forth to Portland, Denver etc with my natural solitary nature. But this accident gave me such a feeling of "Just-in-Time Family", or "On-demand Family (JiTF, ODF) that is probably not unique to the US, but is definitely a bonus of living here. In times of crisis, people you haven't seen in years will show up in scores to offer solace, aid or otherwise. From neighbors to people in both Portland and Seattle, the emergence of these folk is heart-stopping. Of course, underneath all of this is my Wife, who has risen from wife-friend status to wife-angel. I owe her, and the rest of you who have offered help, my great thanks.
Here is a pic of one of her Bunnies giving me solace
The week in pain in review, whereby our hero fights his way back to reality
After I returned from Portland a week ago today, I was modestly optimistic. Was just discharged, stuffed into a car and fired northward. Later I discovered that I had been discharged with only short-acting painkillers. This turned in a very very big deal saturday night, as I tried to manage the pain every 3 hours. The label >said< "1-3 every 3 hours" (this is 5mg Oxycodone). I was dropping 6 of these at a time and barely able to move. So after eventually making it through, the wife and I up and checked me into the Harborview emergency room, because you see, if you get discharged from a hospital in one state on a weekend, hell would rather freeze over than aid you with medications, particularly Schedule II narcotics, in another state, before the following Monday or probably later.
Spent >4< hours in the emergency room, a place of smells, groans and desperation like a bus-stop from hell before I was moved to the antiseptic ER 100 yards away. Spent 30 minutes there then was hustled off to X-Ray for another set (again, because those in Portland may as well never have existed), then back to the E.R. Remember that I have a foot long scar on my back:
But the thing is, back injuries are apparently the most common justification for folk trying to score narcotics, so I fit all the parameters. Wife even dressed up as to not look like my co-addict, but may have gone too far and looked >too< good, leading to more suspicion.
Anyway, finally left, close to 6 hours later, in much pain, with a short prescription for long-acting oxy-codone. Sort of slept that night, but was still in much pain.
The story since Sunday has been a mixture of drug-hazed emotion and pain. I urge everybody, DON'T RISK BREAKING YOUR BACK. It really is life-changing. Today is perhaps the first day that I have not felt like complete shit, and I still feel sort pretty intense pain when I move my lefts at all. Walking is a major chore. But >can< walk, and apparently I will walk, so I am largely going to be OK. Yaay me. List of things I can't do for a while that I used to do:
Climbing
Motorcycle riding
Home repair
Surfing
Mechanical work
Digging
Lifting
Annnnnd for the win
Snowboarding.
This whole process has been, and will likely continue to be, one of revelations. As a immigrant to this country, I have always envied those who have family here a built in social system that can come to their aid and in turn asks and provides a support system. For some reason I didn't place as much emphasis on non-blood family, and here is my first revelation. The US is so vast and complex that most folk are probably going to be, in some way, new to an area and far from home. Even though I have lived in Seattle for going on 20 years now, I never really counted too many friends up here, a combo of my moving back and forth to Portland, Denver etc with my natural solitary nature. But this accident gave me such a feeling of "Just-in-Time Family", or "On-demand Family (JiTF, ODF) that is probably not unique to the US, but is definitely a bonus of living here. In times of crisis, people you haven't seen in years will show up in scores to offer solace, aid or otherwise. From neighbors to people in both Portland and Seattle, the emergence of these folk is heart-stopping. Of course, underneath all of this is my Wife, who has risen from wife-friend status to wife-angel. I owe her, and the rest of you who have offered help, my great thanks.
Here is a pic of one of her Bunnies giving me solace