Ever since my doctor prescribed a new drug, I had lived with my pain.
I thought I could get used to it. Sure, my body somehow develops a dull reaction to it. But my brain gets dull as well. I forget things. Simple things. Like forgetting my wallet in the car. Or forgetting to bring home my walking cane at the side of my work desk.
I don’t like taking painkillers because of the long-term damage they can do to my kidneys. They also contraindicate some of my current meds.
So I went through the previous working week without painkillers. Delivered two presentations to peers while summoning all my concentration to be the best while at the helm, and be as charming as possible.
Went well. Except I forgot to do other things by the wayside.
Pain dulls the brain.
I remember Patti’s Physiological Psychology class discussuion: something about the brain producing endorphins in response to pain. But not at a level to make one high, only to make the pain manageable until you can retreat to your safe place and sleep it off. Memory and other higher-functioning brain activity, like strategizing, planning, and communication are compromised.
When in pain, one just wants to retreat to a safe place.
At the end of Friday, two hours after quitting time, I was still at work sending out e-vites to media friends for an event. By the time I was done, I was in dire pain. And I told myself, there is a ton of work to do but work never ends, right?
Hey, even on the day we die, our inbox will still be full.
"I will do those early on Monday. While the office is quiet, while I can still hear myself think."
Little did I know.
Saturday. My gout which had plagued me all week despite my best efforts at keeping a sweet and smiley “I am okay” demeanor decided to rear more of its ugly head. What was a swelling on my left elbow was joined by a stiffness on my left ankle.
I couldn’t lift Stitch to give him a proper bath, something I do every Saturday.
Still, I decided, no painkillers. Just lots of water and juice.
Sunday. It became worse. I could not stand properly. I hobbled my way to the back room to retrieve the four-pronged walking cane.
Four-pronged walking cane. Nothing (aside from a walker) says "disabled and elderly" as much as that.
"I must be back at work Monday. I have no more applicable sick leaves and only one VL to go which I am saving for Stitch’s happy weekend at the beach."
I decided to bite the bullet, hobble in pain to the car and drive myself to the nearest drugstore to get painkillers.
After a full stomach from a reheated dinner, I pop 2 of the Cataflam pills and one Colchicine.
Then sleep. A restless sleep of waking up every few hours to poop. Excretion is how these pills get rid of the inflammation.
Woke Up at 5 am. I still cannot walk gracefully and painlessly.
Regretfully, I called in sick.
And, heck, after quickly feeding Stitch and the cats, tidying up their mess, and after breakfast, I pop more of those lovely pills in.
Jacqueline Susann called them “dolls” in her bestselling three-heroine freshman novel from the 60s.
I slept blissfully for I think more than 6 hours. thanks to these dolls.
Pain is much less now. I can move my elbow with full range of motion and now I can stand AND WALK unaided.
As for the consequences of my unfulfilled duties at work, I will face them tomorrow.
For now, I am just thankful for a day without pain. Well, relatively, anyway.
Thankful for so many things. Modern medicine among them.
And no. I am not heretofore calling them dolls.
J.
J Torres BADELLES 