“I’m learning to fly, but I ain’t got wings
Coming down is the hardest thing”
-Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers, Learning to Fly
I thought those lyrics suited the current situation quite well. I was originally going to go with Amy Winehouse’s Rehab, but felt bad about using someone else’s cry for help for entertainment purposes. Too soon?
So as you probably have heard by now, I had hip labrum surgery on Monday. One perk of surgery is that seemingly everyone besides your doctor will jokingly tell you that this gives you access to some potent medication. In this case, it was Oxycodone. Party time!!! Eh, I don’t really party that way. Sure they make you feel good, but is it worth it?
Maybe not everyone has the same experience, but I just don’t see how being backed up like the expressway during rush hour traffic on a hot summer day is appealing. Add in the fact that you get so edgy and irritable that everything bothers you, especially your own skin, and I just don’t see why people would actually do hillbilly heroin just for fun. Officially, the side effects listed are: nausea, vomiting, constipation, lightheadedness, dizziness, drowsiness, itching/rash, dry mouth, swelling of the face/lips/tongue/throat. Pretty exciting stuff, no?
I just needed to come down off the meds ASAP. In a way, it’s like trying to prove how tough you are. “Doc tried to give me Oxy, so I said ‘no thanks pussy’ and head-butted a wall on my way out.” Simply proving the pain is tolerable isn’t enough; you probably need to inflict some more pain on yourself in lieu of taking painkillers to win that fictional tough man competition.
This is in no way intended to be a documentation of my “struggles” to cut out my “addiction”. I was just surprised at how awful the stuff had me feeling. My wife was (and still is) doing such a good job of taking care of me that I’m clearly spoiled, yet I was still more irritable than I’ve ever been. I was somehow pissing myself off even though I was just sitting on the couch. Surgery started at 7:30 am on Monday, I was home by 11 that same morning. If my foggy memory serves me correct, I started cutting back on the meds on Tuesday afternoon, and by the next day I was done with them.
Is that good or bad? I have no idea, nor do I really care. Everyone’s different in the way they handle pain. There’s one guy I know (who shall remain nameless) that apparently just went through a similar procedure and was walking around fine pretty much right after. As far as I know, the man is not Wolverine, but I’m not ruling out the fact that he might have some mutant powers. Anyway, his recovery puts my timetable to shame! I’m suspecting that I could walk around fine, but I’ll come right out and say I’m scared to even try. I’ll give the doctor his two weeks of crutch time and take it from there. I have no idea what could possibly go wrong by putting weight on it and really have nothing to gain by risking that at this point.
The timing of my withdrawal could’ve been better since I now have this handy grabber device. Just when reaching for far away pill bottles became so easy, I seemed to have lost the need to do it. Well less frequently, and for far less potent meds (nobody wants to here about how I’m reaching for Advil). In fact, I used to it grab no less than three things in the course of writing this. I may keep it around once I’m recovered, you know, just for the those days where I want to take lazy to a whole ‘nother level.