But I Don't Want to Share!
So... in the last installment, I was on my way to see the rehab people.
That was done this morning. To make a two hour (fine, 90 minutes) evaluation short, I was once again pronounced cured.
The rehab folks basically determined that I didn't need to be boarded in the hospital because the worst was over. The symptoms would wane and could now be dealt with over the counter stuff. They still thought it was a good idea to enroll me in the Day Program... which is the same as the 24/7 version except that it's from 9-4:30 every day. They asked me how many days I wanted to go and I shrugged. Until I stop farting fire? I thought that was a legit measure of success, but the nurses were serious. Addiction is a serious matter. Very serious. No joking in rehab. Stern. Straight. I giggled. Whoops.
It only took me 90 minutes to get to the hospital. I was hoping more people would have taken time off for holidays or something... but no... they all showed up on the highways to mock my unhappy digestive system. I swear to Pepto someone on this planet has a voodoo doll of me and is pushing pins in my stomach and a zippo under my butt. Yowza. Not cool, voodoo person. Pray I don't find you... my revenge will be swift and brutal... probably involving a trident.
So, what was I on about? Oh, yeah... so they say I'm eligible for the day plan. So they take me upstairs where they keep all the addicts in storage. Here I was told that I'd probably see the doctor some time during the day, but certainly tomorrow. In the meantime, I was to get ready for some sort of group meeting. I asked the nurse if I could go to my car and get my laptop. You'd have thought I asked her if I could set a midget on fire. (By the way... that'd be funny.... stop drop and roll, frodo!) Apparently, laptops are verboten. Hmmm. The web site made it seem like I was gonna have some down time. Apparently not. I was scheduled for a full day of group meetings, group meals, group hugs, group arts and crafts, group show and tell, group potty breaks, etc. This didn't look good to me.
I went into the program hoping to help cope with the physical issues... especially when they were really really bad... last week. Now, they want me to hang out with strangers and tell them stories or something and make a paper mobile of things I can't smoke. Or something.
If I had to spend all day in a bunch of group meetings with people I didn't know... one of a few things was going to happen.
1 - I was going to get bored and fall asleep
2 - I was going to get bored and grouchy and mentally wrestle with the therapy staff
3 - I was going to get bored and make up exciting stories about myself to amuse everyone (Like that I used to buy my pills from an old gypsy woman who made them from dragon bones and nutmeg. If you took three at once, you had the power to get dizzy and tired quickly.
Option 3 sounded kinda fun. I could make stories of adventure. The Dread Pirate Monty taking to the high seas to hijack Spanish treasure fleets loaded with pills and adult entertainment software. Monty the Crusader... who had his leg blown off in Bagdad but had it reattached by a kind Kurdish boy named Nidociv. It wasn't until I saw where he signed my cast in a mirror that I saw that Nidociv was really Vicodin backwards! Holy crap, that's when Nicholson comes at me with an axe and is like Here's Jack Nicholson! And say no. Because that's what Nancy Reagan would do.
Then I look into a big room where there is a circle of about 20 chairs and see many of the people I'd be camped out with. These were people with real problems. You could just look in there and see it in there faces. A couple were surprisingly young. A couple were surprisingly old. All of them looked very sad. I didn't look like that. Nor did I want to. I decided that the people in there probably needed help and support in that type of environment. I didn't. And I didn't want to detract from their experience/healing by goofing off. I asked the nurse to unadmit me. I went to work.
One of the questions that the nurse asked me was if I felt supported. I said, yep. Actually, I said yes, this corset is doing wonders for me. Sigh.
And I do.
So a big thanks to those that have expressed their support here, via e-mail, in person, or in the middle of the night when I just needed someone to laugh at a bad joke (or just go hmmm).
Really.
I saw what it could have been like otherwise. It didn't look good.
and smelled a bit like an old bus that was used for one too many high school field trips.
I'll start with Las Vegas related postings tomorrow.