Tag Archives: percocet

Somewhere Over the Percocet

At work, a small white tablet was found straggling around in my purse.  I heard angel choirs chanting not too far off this multi-dimensional realm.  I split the porcelain little helper in two.  Even before popping the first half, the placebo effect of the hope that was to come was already melting troubles away like lemon drop shots.

All these mornings have been groundhog-ish.  I had an interruption in my regular treatment for the ‘wolf disease’, and so the inflammation and pain came back with a vengeance.  With permission from a doctor’s note, I have stumbled into work late almost every day in the last two weeks.  When I pry my dessert-dry eyes open in the morning, while blood is trashing around in my skull, I begin the process of gauging my pain levels.  Neck: Stiff.  Hips: swollen.  Feet: extra swollen.  Back: stabbing.  Elbows: Stuck. Wrist and Fingers: numb.  Organs: Tender.  I’m exhausted from lack of recuperation, but also mentally, from the automatic conditioning that has set in;  the rapid-fire assessment I make two minutes from wake-up time.  I know the day is going to be a battle and my brain wages war to stay home for an hour or two more.

Eventually I unfurl my spine and muster the bravery to place my feet on the floor.  Morning stiffness and swelling is normal. For the rest of the day, continual movement is paramount, otherwise, my joints will stay stuck in motionless positions.  I still don’t know how to describe many of the symptoms that come with this condition.  The best one yet, which I don’t know if the average person can understand, is that it feels like my blood doesn’t fit inside its veins and my limbs don’t fit inside it’s skin encasing.  The most recent pain is my lower back.  The doctor said there is no damage.  “It’s just inflammation.”  I doubt the words of that arrogant fool, but I’m also helpless in my limited amount of time to take off work and see every doctor for every spot on my body that’s wrong.

My excitement for the Perk was because I had run out of them.  The physician switched me to Vicodin, a very unpleasant substitute which reduces pain, adds headaches, has angered my autoimmune and takes my literal breath away.  This cannot continue.

For that reason, finding a lost little Percocet made my next 4-6 hours.  However, the concern simmers within. It won’t be long before it wears off and no more rogue pills will be laying around to be found.

This is not the most unbearable pain I’ve ever experienced, but it’s the most ongoing pain I’ve ever  had to deal with.  I’m not sure how to do it and when the big picture spans out before my eyes, out of focus and blurry, panic begins to stir.

Am I becoming dependent on a short-term solution?

Am I falling trap to a cognitive dissonance that justifies pill popping. Even if its prescribed?

What constitutes the right to pain killers?

What if you need them to keep your job?

What is the deal with organic herbs that ease pain without causing systematic damage like synthetic narcotics? Why don’t I live in California or Amsterdam?

When will they build a Whole Foods in my neighborhood?

How do I keep my job and my home from being neglected in my condition?

How am I to reduce to a more manageable part-time, if I need to pay for so many medicines, appointments, and tests? How am I supposed to keep my mental peace when its at war with my body?

How am I going to do my part as a capable housewife if I run out of energy too early on the same day that my beloved cat decides to poop on our mattress and pee on all our spare mattresses?

What if  I don’t stop asking all these unanswerable questions and die right here of cardiac arrest?

All these questions ruminate above in my head with great insistence.

They tumble inside my brain like a dryer with damp laundry all they want, but none of it is solvable if i don’t stop the cycling.  Stress exacerbates fatigue, pains, and surrender.  Action however, gets the job done.

I’m a big believer of a mini-break down. If you fight it too long, you’re have a certified melt-down and that’s just too inconvenient for everyone.  After you’re done crying and venting to a friend/family member who provides you a less morbid solution than resorting to admitting yourself in an insane asylum, you wait for your blotchy skin to normalize, you assume rhythmic breathing, you decrease your voice’s pitch from supersonic back to human, send a quick prayer through the proper channels, and you lay out your plan.

As soon as your vision isn’t blurred,  you call all your doctors with reasonable inquiries and requests.  Then you research on acupuncture and and natural therapies because your doctor is bound to take guesses as good as a two-year old.  You buy a box of pinch-proof gloves and an enzyme cleaner for unpleasant odors.  You put aside any feminism and ask Husband for suggestions and to kindly pass the vacuum once a week for you (He won’t know if you don’t ask).  Draw smiley faces on the bills you don’t intend to pay.  Powder your face again if warranted.  Thank your friends for letting you be at your worst with them and still letting you maintain your credibility when the show is over.

Ages 4-7

You also learn to prepare better for next time. It’s time to invest in the sponge bat I’ve been suggesting might be the greatest problem solver in the world.

I especially like this one with the adjustable size for the days my symptoms throw me on the couch and the cats start meowing suspiciously.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  Pain killers are a temporary solution. Being in turmoil is inevitable but should always be dealt with.  Being overwhelmed doesn’t have to be the dirty little secret many sweep under the ground as if this life was a summer breeze.  Take meds if you must, but learn how to get on by your own terms. That alone is like natural opiates.



And that’s the way Sue C’s it. *

*High-five, Glee Geeks!


Filed under Indulgence, Loopy Lupus, Picture of Health, Post A Week, Stimulating the Economy, Under the Weather

A Berry Intense Smoothie for a Berry Berry Intense Day

Today was some day. I don’t have as many bad days as you suspect. Not anymore. But it was some day.

I don’t let poor health define a bad day, otherwise, I’d have them commit me where in a place where I can stare at barred windows, eat my green jello, and swallow Haldol everyday. Sad days aren’t necessarily bad either, until its sad news with effects of a shelf-life lasting more than 12 hours. Lupus is not a reason to be down every day.  At least I’m here typing and not dictating narrative through a computer mouthpiece like Steven Hawking’s. I accept the disease. What I don’t accept… is the monarchical insurance business doing whatever the hell they want with my money and health!

No, a certifiable bad day means when I’ve been done wrong.  When the rage monster kicks in.  When I have no control over situations that are, for lack of a more refined word, idiotic.

Continuing my Russian novel about this Interstitial Cystitis ordeal that has already been irresponsibly delayed about eight days, now the “procedure” will have to be postponed another 10-plus days.  Coventry Insurance requires a 10-day Authorization wait. The waiting period to purchase a fire arm in Florida is 3 days! Be grateful you cannot see the vein gorging out from my forehead. I had already stopped taking the Tylenol/Percocet pain killers I need to tolerate my job. One would argue, “But its only been one day!”. Then I would refute, but I woke up this morning feeling like I was kicked and beaten down by Crips and Bloods, causing me to arrive late to the job funding my “procedure”, that the kind people at Coventry told me is covered, but they may or may not pay it at the time of the claim.

Since this ordeal started, I have had to get off a natural detoxification/lymphatic drainage treatment that was improving my health wonderfully.  Pain and inflammation still occurred, but my days were increasingly manageable and gearing up to the second phase, immune suppresion.  Now I’m off the treatment, running out of pain medication, running out of budget, and getting to work late most mornings. I’m sure everyone suspects this, but let me reiterate how hard it is to think straight when you’re in severe pain!  And yes, I’m accentuating consonants to the point that the keyboard is spitting! Loud Noises!

*stops to take a deep breath and create a multi-sensory happy place*

Well, what’s done is done. The bout of anger in me is going to have to put on the dunce cap, because being upset creates more headaches, exhaustion, and ‘poofy face’. I’ll handle this tomorrow and see what my options are.

For today, I must rise above my BF (b*tch fit), take care of myself, and center my whacked out chi.  When I cannot take anymore narcotics for inflammation, food is my medicine.

Let thy food be thy medicine.  -Hippocrates

I try to include anti-inflammatory foods in all my meals with the exception of occasional sliding.  With ruffled feathers, I marched myself into Walmart and started immediately calming down as I found myself selecting healing foods.  Usually I take the time to bargain shop, buy seasonally, get whats on sale. Today I went straight to the frozen section (No cans. I’m not sure why, but I can’t tolerate canned foods.) where everything was in one isle, loaded up the cart. I hastily needed to dine on berries, get a little boost, and get to move my joints freely! No serious chopping required.

I had gotten the idea and reminder to eat smart from this well-informed blogger earlier. I will be making a Fatigue Fightin’ Smoothie similar to hers in that it’s made with fruits packed with antioxidants and other amazing properties. It will be experimental because I loved her spinach idea! Just add fat-free plain greek yogurt and ice:


But here are the ones I bought, and I did the work for you if you want to know what are their beneficial properties. I always look up a fruit when I’m enjoying it. Oh Poo! I forgot the kiwis. Without further ado, Fruity Fruits!:

Strawberries (I lied, I got these got in produce, on sale, and left the frozen bag in the fruit area. That ain’t right.):










The wild card, Spinach:


As you read (if you curiously explored the links), all the fruits ending in ‘ies’ are chock-full of home remedies.  You don’t have to be ill to benefit highly from a blend of berries.  If you’re extra tired lately, suspect chronic fatigue syndrome, suffer headaches, have arthritis, bursitis, or any autoimmune condition, it will only make life easier to drink these more regularly.  As a matter of fact, if you need more energy, drop all white bread and white rice, and if you’re really intent on getting healthy, all bread and wheat products for a few days so that the fruits and veggies can start working through your blood, muscles, and joints without interference.  Had I not been sticking a healthy diet, I would’ve been incarcerated for assault and battery to innocent bystanders after today’s emotional frustrations.  But after being on a doctor-ordered anti-inflammatory diet, hard situations are a little bit clearer and easier to put in perspective.

I leave you with that. Off to do some zenful Classical Stretch.

*Later that night:

Fightin Fatigue Smoothie

In a Dewar’s glass none the less. It was rich and delicious. I used less yogurt, 2 large tablespoons. No spinachy taste, but all the Popeye’d benefits. It was delish! I’ll put Robeks out of business.

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Filed under Foodsies, Housewifing, Indulgence, Loopy Lupus, Picture of Health, Under the Weather

Gentrifying the Dining Table

When we first got married, our house was empty. We didn’t have a place to eat or sit on. We did everything on out carpet. And I mean everything. *wink* *sorry*

However, I was carrying on a full-time job. So was he, and he travels at really odd hours. We were exhausted and barely able to find 5 relaxing minutes together where we could talk about anything other than settling in our apartment. Also, my health was already mysteriously deteriorating, but I was pushing through it, pumping iron at the gym. This, of course, would dwindle with time. Making meals for two, and one extremely picky eater was new to me. Basically, there was no time to stop and think of fixing up our place to make it a home, not just sleep quarters and a messing area.

As I adapted, haphazardly and by trial and error rather than careful planning, the instinctual nature of any newlywed was kicking in. What’s next after tying the ball and chain? Fix your place up. Make it your own. We’re still working on it, piece by piece. Exhaustion and health bills keep us from the more focused approach to furnishing. These are some of the battles of chronic fatigue, swollen joints and limbs, inflammation headaches.

About 6 months in, my mother sensed  -like moms do- that I was having a hard time keeping up. She bought me a simple bouquet of fresh, blooming, bright yellow daisies. I previously believed this flower was too simplistic. However, it brightened up my house like I hadn’t imagined and I apologized to my new fabulous table center for being so short-sighted.  When I was single, I was the unromantic type who said flowers are overrated. So soon after being bound by law to man, my sexy husband picked up my newfound value for the lifting effect of nature’s little gifts (without my telling him, brownie points!) . The man who said he wasn’t the type to buy flowers was buying roses to a woman who said claimed they were cheesy.

Now, I long for my table to decorated with something alive. I’m much more plant minded.  This week I was buying veggies and fruits at our local produce shop across the street and saw they had a quaint purple gem I’d never seen before for $1.99! Hells yea.

Further now, it’s been a really rough week health-wise.  As a matter of fact, I was buying celery, parsley, and cucumber for an alkalanizing smoothie (I think I Sarah Palin’d that word and I’m not apologizing for it).  I barely had the energy to chop and blend my concoction. My hands were and still are kind of rubbery with swelling. My feets feel like boats. Piles of mail mixed with Husband’s projects seemed to be climbing higher on our table. The couch was collecting a Home Edition line of living accessories for my own planted butt. Ah, but this cute chrysanthemum could charm any home accumulating clutter.

See below the progression of inspiration from something humble sprung from the earth:

Progression No. 1


Progression No. 2




Progression No. 3




I lie. It was not just pure beauty that led to my pro-activity. By No. 3 my Percocet had kicked in. Which I do not encourage even for Lupsters! I’m taking it temporarily for all the recent damage my frail organs went through and simply because otherwise I’ll lose my day job.  I’m not unaware of the dangers, not to mention potential addiction if usage is extended too long. Just setting up a disclaimer right now. However, I wrote a little song called “I love you Perky-cet”.

Moving right along, building up my home is a slow process in my condition.  Keeping neat and organized is hit or miss. When my husband is in town, he helps with the maintenance. Otherwise, it quickly amounts to a chaos that I’m learning to not be apologetic about anymore.  It’s not easy going to sleep knowing the dishes is working on hardening grit or wondering if I passed out before I closed all dangerous cat nooks.  But everyone once in a sucky day, something awesome and wonderful completely distracts me from pain (No, Perky-cet is not awesome and wonderful) and I can power through achy knees and make my apartment a neat, symmetrical dream home.

*P.S. Sorry about the picture quality.  I’ll be upgrading to stealing Husband’s camera soon.


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Filed under Housewifing, Indulgence, Loopy Lupus, Under the Weather