my trip down the rabbit hole...

“Do you think I've gone round the bend?" - the Mad Hatter
"I'm afraid so. You're mad, bonkers, completely off your head. But I'll tell you a secret. All the best people are.” - Alice, in Lewis Carroll's "Alice in Wonderland"  

A fall down some steps a few weeks ago landed me in a place that is as strange as the world Alice found herself in, after she fell down the rabbit hole. And, as in Lewis Carroll's book, Alice in Wonderland, things keep getting "curiouser and curiouser" for me.

The tumble down the hardwood stairway in our home crushed my right shoulder; this resulted in surgery to repair the mess. Since then, my life has been a slow-motion roller coaster ride of pain medications, other medications, and adjustment to living a one-armed life. I'm right-handed, which means I started out really useless, but with time and practice my left hand has made great strides towards dexterity.

I am not a patient person. I do not like to be around sick people. Personal independence is one of my greatest points of pride. Imagine how much fun it is for me to be the sick person who needs help, lots of help, all of the time, to accomplish even the simplest of tasks...

"Humbling" doesn't even begin to describe this experience and I'm not through it yet. All reports leave me in a sling for at least five more weeks and, with a bunch of physical therapy, maybe near healed again in six months. The long term forecast ranges from "near full recovery" to "permanent loss of some mobility."

When you have surgery, they send you home with a slew of pain meds and some pretty generous guidelines as to how to use them. I started out on the maximum daily dose - 12 pills, two every four hours. I have weaned myself down to five per day, which is one pill every five hours. The goal is to end up on Tylenol only, ASAP. But, as motivated as I am, this shoulder seems to have a mind of its own...

I read the package inserts and Googled the medications I'm on. The result was the clear knowledge that these little white pills are quite addictive, yet information on how to wean off of them is sorely lacking. When I called the doctor's office, his nurse's response was, "We prescribe these medications to help you manage your pain. We don't provide counseling as to how to get off of them..."

No wonder prescription pain medications (opioids, specifically oxycodone and hydrocodone) are the most commonly abused drugs in America. In fact, Americans, who comprise less than five percent of the world's population, use 80 percent of the world's opioids. Granted, chronic pain is the reason most who get hooked ended up down that path, but I can see how, post surgery, one could become overly fond of the soft edges and relaxed state these pills create.

Life on these medications takes on a very different pace and feel. There are no days and nights - only four hour periods which stretch across the days and nights. Dreams, fatigue and little spurts of energy occur around the clock and there seems to be little rhyme or reason to their pace. It's like the pain medication has replaced the sane and steady gatekeeper of my mind with a bad bouncer who'll let anyone or anything in, anytime, to join the party in my mind.

"Hey, Huge Pink Bear! What are you doin' here with my 4th grade boyfriend?...Yes, world peace is important, but it's appliance tax-free day and we need a new dryer...If dinosaurs are extinct, why is that Tyrannosaurus gently placing puppies on my bedroom windowsill? And, am I supposed to bring them in?" Good Lord, sweet reality! I never thought I'd miss you so much!

In this state, the past and present float in and out of each other, colliding gently at times, completely co-existing at others. I have Skype sessions with people from all different periods of my life, as if we're all here together. The other day, I had the nicest "visit" with an old friend I've not seen for years, her toddler daughter (who I took care of 28 years ago, while her mom worked ,) the grown-up version of the toddler daughter (who is now a 30-year-old Facebook friend of mine,) and her two daughters - ages four and one. What a lovely way to spend a nap!  

Earlier on, when the injury was new and the pain was really bad, my beloved Rottweiler Roland visited me one night, in a dream. He died in March, so one of the first things he did was make it clear that he was still gone - that he was just visiting, briefly, from dog heaven  because I hurt so much and he wanted to comfort me. He smelled just like he smelled in real life; his fur was as soft and warm as it had always been. It was so nice to see him and I was so sad, yet thankful when I woke up, wondering how any of that had been...

"You would have to be half mad to dream me up," said the Mad Hatter to Alice; and, he was right. Hopefully my time in the rabbit hole is almost over. As interesting as it has been, it's time for me to switch books, don my ruby slippers, click them together three times and repeat, "There's no place like home," just like Dorothy did in The Wizard of Oz. After all, even the best of adventures must come to an end.