I’ll write this one while I can, and you’ll understand why.

A few days ago, I visited a local urgent care because my shoulder had become very painful. The doctor listened to my narrative, gave me a couple more high-octane painkillers and told me not to return to work until I had seen the specialist that my primary care physician had referred me to see.

As a spectator sport, I find pharmaceuticals fascinating, and when I get to experience them first hand, it’s a bit of a bonus. Initially, I had been given Vicodin, which did little for me. Had I doubled my own dosage, that might have helped, but I didn’t want to endanger myself. Now I’ve got Percocet and Valium, and horse-pill Aleve. This combo is much better, because I finally got a good, solid sleep. With such a painful shoulder, let me tell you, it is very much impossible to find a position that a body is comfortable in and will stay in the entire night. That’s the part I like.

The part I don’t is this cycle, that I’ve gone through three times now:

  1. Ouch. Nearly every movement causes my shoulder to hurt. (takes pills)
  2. Realized that my mind has slipped out of gear and I don’t recall the last couple pages of the book I’m reading at all or I had spaced out and cannot remember what I’m watching.
  3. Without warning, I understand my mind to be clear and my shoulder feels great. Experience a moment when I decide that this is all the shoulder needed, some down time and now everything is fine. I can finally get back to my life.
  4. The remainder of the painkillers wear off and every movement causes my shoulder to hurt. (takes pills)

Although I do feel some relief of not being dead weight to my team at work, more time hanging around the house not feeling productive is a bit of a mental challenge too. Too much of an American to know what to do with free time, I suppose.