Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Looking for bodies...and Vicodin

Make no mistake, I'm experiencing the mother of all boredom attacks.

I can't remember when my life has felt this dull. With all the things I love to do--write, paint, make music, dance, bike--you'd think something would catch my interest. But nope. I got nuthin'. I don't even feel like watching TV shows about serial killers. Can you imagine?

I fully suspect that my problem is that I miss the Vicodin. I switched to MSContin as a pain reliever a week or two ago, and while it's an opiate, it's a boring opiate in that it doesn't make you even a little high. It helps the pain somewhat, but who cares? So did the Vicodin. What I need here is to medicate MY REALITY, not just the chronic pain in my jaw. I need TO ALTER MY WORLD WITH DRUGS, PERIOD.

One interesting thing that did happen today was that I got a pain attack, but in not having any Vicodin, I couldn't escape the emotional panic that always ensues, and I got really really pissed off. I mean, what am I supposed to to with that? Just sit around and be miserable?

I gave in to drinking a glass of wine, thinking that would help me escape, but you know what? Drinking bores me. I was so worried the other day that in replacing pills with alcohol that I'd become an alcoholic, but I've no fear of that anymore. Alcohol only increases my boredom and gives me an acid stomach, the latter of which is not interesting at all.

Sometimes Vicodin would make me vomit, and that was mildly interesting, but indigestion registers high on the boredom scale. Plus, alcohol does nothing for the pain. It does make me want to smoke, and that's a little entertaining, but only for 90 seconds or so. About halfway through the cig, I get bored and put it out, which considering the cost of these things is just crazy. Then again, they're SO expensive that there might actually be a market for half-smoked cigarettes, but I'm too bored to consider new business propositions.

I want my Vicodin...it's that simple. Like a baby who gets her bottle taken away, I'm throwing a temper tantrum, but not in a way that's melodramatic or even amusing. I'm not breaking things or yelling at anyone. I'm not running into bad neighborhoods looking "to score" nor am I prostituting myself for drugs, which would be an unwise business move anyway considering how flat-chested I am. I'm just pining away for that pillow-soft world that Vicodin brings.

What's not boring but instead irritating right now are these constant helicopters making a racket above my apartment house. I live on the banks of the Hudson River, across from NYC, where there was that plane/helicopter collision two days ago. They're still looking for bodies. My "in the know" pal in Hoboken here says they just found two bodies in the river that had nothing to do with the crash. Such typical Jersey stuff. He's a shady character. Maybe he has some Vicodin.

I don't need to do that, though. If I want Vicodin, I know my doctor would give it to me if I asked, as he has compassion for this pain mess I'm in. But I also know that would be a step backwards. Right now, I just have to put one boring foot in front of another boring foot, and walk this boring path into a new world that from here looks totally boring.

Lemme see if any serial killers are on TV.


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1 comment:

Dave Scriven said...

Boredom sucks! And you have described it brilliantly, Mary Ann. I had Vicodin once after surgery. I'm a bit embarrassed to admit it, but I loved the experience. I'm not saying I'm not an addict, but apparently I'm not addicted to Vicodin and I am certain I could be. After two days and a dozen tablets of glorious use, I became a little scared of the high and got rid of the remaining 20 pills. I still remember the experience both fondly and fearfully.