Last week I went in for a minor surgical procedure. I’ll spare you the details. As I was being discharged I received a prescription for Oxycodone, which my husband dutifully filled. I was instructed to take the pain medication and lie low for the next several days.
Arriving home, I obediently took a pill and nestled carefully into bed. An hour or so later I awoke with the most surprising sensation; no pain. And not just the surgical site, that was completely numb, but also my year-long bout with chronic back pain–gone. My achy feet from too many hours on the EFX–no pain, my sore hands and wrists from too much time on the computer–no pain. I felt like I was twenty. Totally pain free–a miracle! I hopped out of bed marveling at my body’s ability to heal.
The first thing I did was call my mother. We had a long sympathetic conversation about the bad press prescription drugs receive. Her drug of choice is Vicodan and has been her daily relief for many years. What had my siblings and I been thinking wanting to get her into re-hab? Drugs are good!
I hung up the phone. Then feeling a surge of creativity rising from the depths of my expanded brain, I went into my study to write. I’m in the midst of a first draft, and honestly quite stuck at the moment. Within an hour I had a new chapter written, and a whole new direction for the novel full of unexpected twists and delicious turns. Oh, I was blessed with provocative insight, and the text was masterful, like a newly polished gem.
All this time my husband was cleaning the garage. The house was so empty. Where were the children? Oh, yes, the eldest is married, and my son? Where was he? I knew the middle daughter lived in the woods by a river, but where was the youngest? What was her name? Whatever, it started with a K.
However, my little dog Lucy, stayed by my side, albeit, a wary distance. I spied her curled up in the laundry basket napping. I thought I should put my feet up and rest. The living room floor looked inviting with the sun streaming through the windows. Lying on my back with my attention focused on the rainbow of colors produced by the sunlight, I watched a moth capriciously balanced on the arm of a chair, flexing its wings. We studied each other for some time and I began to sense communication. It was all so very Kafka-esque, I had to blog about this fascinating discovery. It was brilliant!
When I finished the blog, I thought I’d do laundry to celebrate. The energy I had was invigorating. And then, finally exhausted, I found myself back in my nest, satisfied and content.
I awoke to my husband’s face inches from mine, he held the bottle of Oxycodone in his hand. “How many of these did you take?”
“I don’t remember,” I mumbled. Pain coursed through my body finding all the old weak spots.”I should take one now.”
“I don’t think so,” he said.”There were twelve and now there’s nine.” He shook his head. “I found the dog in the washing machine.”
I bolted upright. “Did I start the machine?”
“Thankfully, no. I could hear her bark from the garage.”
Lucy jumped up on the bed, sniffing cautiously and keeping her distance. I held out my hand to pet her, apologizing, and then a vague memory of writing returned to me and I hobbled into my study. Thank God I hadn’t posted the blog–what drivel! And the new chapter was quickly deleted. So much for drug-induced inspiration.
Lucy followed me to the study, but as I moved to pick her up, she took off like a shot for the safety of her kennel.