The two of us lay strewn across each couch, the coffee table serving as our pharmacy. We were miserable, and we were miserable together. As I continued to improve, I had to face facts. I would need to ween myself off the pain meds. After taking them since I received diagnosis for my stricture, I knew this would be daunting. I expressed my concern with my surgeon, who gave me a step down plan to follow. It would have me off medicine in two and a half months.
I weened myself off in one. I know, I had been through a lot, but a dependency on pain killers worried me. I could tell when I didn’t take them that I felt gross. Not because my stomach hurt, but my entire body hurt, like it had caught the flu. Although I was over being in pain, I was also over drug dependency. Discovering the show Mad Men for the first time, I spent a weekend in my room watching every season. Maybe it was longer than a weekend. By the end of it, I was done with taking a regular dosage if pain meds. I didn’t need them every four hours on the clock. I remained realistic, however. After my ordeal, I knew I wouldn’t be completely off them so quickly, but I also didn’t want to take them like clockwork. Every four hours turned into twice a day, which turned into once a day, which turned into every few days, which turned into never. But it took one weekend of legit, miserable cold turkey to break myself of the dependence. I don’t write this to set unrealistic expectations for others. And for those with drug addictions I’m sure experience a different ball game.
Michael had to have surgery on his leg, with two plates and seven metal screws in, he was set for a long recovery as well. But we were on the mend, and headed back to a normal life. Well, not normal. But is anyone’s life ever normal?