I already wrote about my post-surgery medications, including oxycodone, but for this essay, I’d like to explore this question. I’ve passed seven years of sobrieties. Oxycodone is much more effective and dangerous than alcohol. Shouldn’t I be clamoring for more? Why am I not… addicted? My simple answer is that I take the medication as prescribed and it’s helping to relieve a majority of the post-surgery back pain. I’d be hurting if I abused it.
Besides, they’re giving me 10mg, which is barely enough to feel a thing.
I think the important thing, too, is the often-quoted line ‘[mind]set and setting,’ and for me, I’m feeling good overall. My lifestyle has improved significantly since surgery. Although I am in pain through significant portions of the day, I am able to move around. I went to a supermarket today. I didn’t need to go. It was more to leisurely look around, since it was the first time I’d been to this particular store since COVID-19, so it was nice seeing that despite some changes, a majority of the store was the same.
I’m writing again at a more consistent pace.
It does hurt to transfer from sitting in my writing chair to standing, but the pain is lessening by the day. There are still these and myriad other things that don’t feel normal, but I am feeling closer to how I was back earlier this year than I did even a few weeks before I wrote this essay. To that end, although there are still depressive moments throughout my day and life, as we all experience, it’s not enough to seduce me into taking more medication than I need. I don’t know how long this will last.
I’ll be meeting with my new spine doctor next week to chat about things.
I imagine by then, most of my medication will be gone. As nice as it might be, from an addict’s perspective, to hang onto some of this medication, I am filing it under the same thought process as my anti-biotic. As a painkiller, it is designed to kill the pain of this spine pain, rather than to numb me from the sensations of life.
I’m tired now, so I’m going to finish writing this essay tomorrow.
I just got off the phone with a friend of mine that was prescribed Morphine for an extended period of time following a medical situation he was in. He said that addictions usually don’t kick in with just a bottle or two, but after an extended period of time, since your body becomes accustomed to the medication. I don’t think I’m in this situation. I think once the medication is up, if I still need pain medication, then I can talk with my new spine doctor next week to see what our next options are. My pain doctor appointment in two days may not be the route for me to go in that regard, but I feel confident overall that once this is all done, I won’t be seeking more medication.
Funnily enough, I don’t feel warm or fuzzy on Oxycodone.
All it does is just knock down the pain, which is probably why I’m not overly impressed with it. If it did anything more than just knock out the pain, then yeah, there’s more of a likelihood that I might become addicted, but for this, all it does is just get me back to feeling normal. If I become addicted to feeling normal, well, that’s not a problem that can be fixed with painkillers, but through making large or small changes to my life to remove the stresses that are causing me to feel those ways. Since I already subconsciously know this, and since I know that this medication is serious enough to not be taken lightly, I’m not overdoing it. I’m keeping the medication in a secure area. I don’t take more than I need, as prescribed, and I don’t make it easy for myself to take the medication.
I don’t keep the bottle at my desk or at my bed.
I keep it there so I have to get out of bed to take the medication. There is no easy relief for me other than putting in the work to getting better, so it’s less of a medical crutch for me than if I were to take it before getting out of bed or doing anything else in life – the “wake and bake” concept – which forces me to get through some of the discomforts to get to the point where I can take the medication. Even if it’s a layer of abstraction, for me, things like that are important to prevent dependency, since I have to first depend on myself before I can depend on other things. It’s the same as figuring out how to redress my wound myself, since I live by myself, rather than calling up the family member that’s been helping me redress my wound at all hours of the day or night. They stop by once daily to look at the wound and redress it. Otherwise, I can take care of plugging up the drainage and letting it air out. A few nights there it was tough, but I’ve been doing what I can to remain more independent, which applies for the wound and the medication.
I try to push how long I can go without taking medication, too.
It’s been over four hours since I last took my medication, but I think I’ll only take one more before I go to sleep, so I can rest well enough. I could take another to calm my sore tailbone, or to make life feel a little less stressful, but that won’t help. I need to readjust how I sit to fix the former, and I need to address the stress in my life to fix the latter. Every problem has a fix.
I’m using this medication solely to fix to my spine problems rather than fixing other problems.
|Sources: My personal experiences.|
|Inspirations: I always wonder whether my addictions from seven-plus years might still apply, and for me, I’d rather not tempt things.|
|Related: Sober Living essays and Tripping On [The American Healthcare System] chapters.|
|Picture: Template rather than a photo because I took a photo of one pill before.|
|Written On: 2020 September 08 [8:36pm to “I’m going to finish writing this essay tomorrow” at 8:47pm] 2020 September 09 [6:27pm to 6:39pm]|
|Last Edited: 2020 September 09 [First draft; final draft for the Internet.]|