They ( you know who I mean–“they”) were always telling us not to experiment with drugs. I used to picture test tubes and beakers and flasks and bunsen burners. Like you’d slice open a pill, add some powder or solution to it a la Mr. wizard and it would just explode or something.
Later on They changed it to Just say No. And Ive said “no” to joints and LSD and other things youre likely to get offered at Dead shows. I am a sober deadhead. Which may seem like a contradiction in terms, but i prefer to think of
it as iconoclastic. Besides, Ive seen enough Deadhead friends have bad trips to think that druggin roulette is anynsort of good idea.
But now that Ive become the Queen of Pain–the only mercy therein is that I do NOT have to be consort to Sting–I have been prescribed by the medical profession just about every kind of painkiller out there. Except for Tramadol, which is my maintenance med, I take the others as needed and never have much on hand, so dont try to rob my house or anything. The pointof all this is that ysterday at 2pm I felt a
horrible tearing, followed by the sensation of some great hand reaching into the right side of my body and squeezing my liver, intestines, kidney and fat into a giant toothed vice. Much drama later–passing out on the front lawn, vomiting on the side of the road, etc.–I was diagnosed with another kidney stone and sent home with a prescription for Oxycodone.
And that’s what I took about 2hours ago. I havent had this particular med in years, and I swear that it is Stupid In A Bottle. Yes, it helps very much with pain. But it also makes me even more of an idiot than I am normally. And that’s why I decided to Experiment With Drugs and see what kind of a blog post I could crank out while my brain is otherwise occupied with “Dope”.
I hat e the word “dope” and for some reason associate it with the police officer who gave my 5th grade health class our drug lecture. He was really arrogant and before he said anything Iwould never have even considered taking a drug. Five kinutes into his speech and I wanted to take the pot just to aggravate him. Of course I didnt. But still.
I dont know how all these famous writers manage to get work done on drugs. I just fell asleep (druggers call it a “nod” I believe) for five minutes, my finger stuck on the letter i. Appropriate in a way, seeing as how this drug narrows my focus to just me. I couldnt imagine trying to extricate a fictional narrative from this head.
Man. I was hoping this would be funnier. Oh well. Nime to turn off the bunsen burner.