I’ve been sick with the crud for over a week now. It started as some kind of “bug” - you know - getting hot and sweaty and then getting the chills and encasing myself in anything thick and cozy to get warm. I spent several parts of many days in bed. I felt o.k. for an hour, thought I was over it, got up and tried to do something and then ended up back in bed, feeling too yucky to read or even watch t.v. I don’t know what I’d do if it weren’t for my 6 doggies snuggling with me in bed to make sure I (or they) were comfortable.

A couple of days ago, whatever it was seemed to congeal in the right side of my face and I started to experience pretty severe pain. What is my sinuses? Did I have an abscessed tooth? I couldn’t tell if the pain was in my eye, my ear, my jaw, my throat, my teeth or all of the above. I started eating acetaminophin and ibuprophen like they were candy (remember - always buy generic), thinking that my army of an immune system would eventually send its warrior antibodies and white cell platoons to attack and destroy the enemy invaders. The pain only got worse.

Two nights ago I ended up going home straight from work, which, believe me, is not my usual practice. On Monday I go to a Nia class (google Nia - it’s amazing. I’ll tell you all about it later.) Tuesday night is Nia, followed by meditation. Wednesday it’s off to Nia again and then a favorite 12 step meeting. Thursday after work I volunteer at a Free Clinic in town and Friday, if I’m not going to Nia, I will actually return to my home for a short period before departing for some other activity. So when I skipped Nia and Meditation that night, something had to be seriously wrong.

By 10:00 p.m. I was in bed, crying like a baby, hot water bottle on my face, trying to “be one with the pain.” What the hell is “one with the pain?” I didn’t want to breathe into the discomfort - I wanted it to go away. Now! I have a pretty high tolerance for pain, so when I tell you I was hurting, I mean I WAS HURTING. As I was lying there, I remembered that one of my neighbors had told be a while back that if I ever needed anything for pain, she had some major power hitter drugs in her medicine cabinet. Now this woman also knows that I am in recovery and is a health care professional, whom I have very high regard for and really like. Should I go over to her house, tell her the situation and get a couple pain killers? How many should I ask for? Should I make a couple of phone calls first? Should I give the pills to my son to disperse every four hours, or keep whatever cache I am given and self-medicate as I saw fit? If I did take the medication, should I pick up a white chip at the next 12 step meeting I attend? Is there really a point at which I would say “yes” to narcotics, if and when the situation warranted? What does “clean and sober” really mean for me? My brain had become one of those Bingo number ball chambers, where the white orbs would randomly pop up, asking another question about pain management, recovery, white knuckling, relapse, white chips or key chains, making a phone call, or telling someone if I did, indeed, take the pills. As the committee in my head kept shouting different choices I re-filled the hot water bottle and must have eventually fallen asleep. The next morning I went to the doctor and am now on a prescription for Amoxicillin, for a probable sinus infection.

Addiction is real, my friends, and I don’t care if you’re an alcoholic, a pill popper, a heroin addict or a crack head. It doesn’t matter if your drug of choice is sex, food, gambling, shopping or shop-lifting, or drugs and alcoholic. This is a disease that will wait patiently until you are alone, vulnerable, or maybe just cruising along thinking everything is o.k. That’s when it strikes. Any time…anywhere. It almost got me the other night…Almost.

Till Next Time -

Your Humble Road Warrior