High Times

Here I sit, deadline upon me, with nothing to write. I started a column a couple of days ago expounding on the reasons you shouldn’t write meaningful articles while you are mad. But I got mad and had to quit on that one. So what to do?

It’s not like I don’t have subject matter. Michael Jackson not being buried yet, Ted Kennedy buried already and of course the never ending supply of material, Barak Obama.
So why can’t I string together a few sentences for a column?

I don’t know. I’m trying to quit smoking again and am taking a new medication that is supposed to help. It really does help though it is not a slam dunk. It is still quite a struggle. It is 90 % mental and the other half physical. I always wanted to say that.

I guess I could tell you about my latest round at the hospital. It’s not nearly as interesting as Amblin’ On’s article in Dixie Living last month. Mine started with a routine stress test. I wasn’t really having any problems other than occasional angina. But the stress test revealed my heart wasn’t getting enough blood. So in they go again with one of them Roto Rooter thingies that opens up clogged arteries. When they had removed the clogs they installed three more stints to keep things flowing. I’ll admit the procedure was painless and I was conscience the whole time. The procedure was the good part.

The bad part was, lying flat on that autopsy table, or whatever it was, killed my back. I have something deteriorating in my back that allows a nerve to pinch when I lie flat. As soon as I lay down it felt like a hot knife in my back. Of course with me not being put under, I felt the pain. I politely told the doctor I needed something for my back pain. He gave me a shot of Fentanol or something like that. It did absolutely nothing for the pain. About a half hour later he gave me another dose of the same stuff. While it did help a little, the pain was excruciating. I asked him if he had any corn liquor or something that worked and after a while he gave me a shot of morphine. On my earlier hospital stay me and morphine became very good friends. But this time my friend let me down, even after a second dose.

Now this procedure took about two hours and just before it was finished I had taken all I could stand. I told the doctor I was gonna get up and walk out of there if I didn’t get some relief. He told me I was so full of dope I couldn’t walk even if he did let me get up. But he relented and gave me a shot of something that sounded like Luadenum. Now that stuff was powerful. It put me out before you could say kiss a duck.

When I woke up I was in the recovery room hooked to a bunch of monitors, IVs and some things I didn’t know what they were. The nurses told me everything had gone well but I had to lay still and keep my leg straight. Something about if I moved my leg the femoral artery might open up and I could bleed out before anything could be done. I was on cloud nine but my back was beginning to hurt again. I agreed to be still if they would give me something for my back and figure out a way for me to pee. If the word pee offends you, stop reading here.

I knew you couldn’t stop. The nurse brought me a plastic urinal, the use of which brought me pleasant relief. Then she brought me another shot of that Laudenum stuff and it was off to La-La Land.

Things went well until about 2:00 am. The first thing I knew was the nurse was standing by the bed hollering at me. I couldn’t understand why. Then I realized there were alarms going off on my monitors. Thinking I must have flat-lined I looked around for the crash cart. But all I saw was me, sitting up on the side of the bed, peeing at the plastic urinal and hitting it every now and then. I had pulled all the wires off and the IV had come unhooked. Things were kind of chaotic for a few minutes.

The nurse got me back to bed and got me all hooked up again and things quieted down. I told the nurse my back was beginning to hurt again and she said “You just hang in there Sunshine, you ain’t getting’ no more Laudenum.”

I managed to get back to sleep. I waited all morning for the nurse to give me a bath like Amblin’ On’s nurse did but it didn’t happen. Soon the doctor came around and sent me home. And here I am. I wish I had about a pint of that Laudenum.