A Time To Die

Last year was horrible. Horrible, awful, dreadful, sickening, frightening…I can’t think of many positive things to describe it except that we had a cool summer and a real winter for the first time in ages, and then–AT LAST– the year was OVER.

In May my cat died of cancer. I had been sober since September 2012, but his death sent me over the edge. He was my constant companion for ten years, and losing him was like losing my child. I spent the next several months swimming in grief and vodka. During that time I suffered a concussion from a serious fall, broken bones, and then, the crowning blow: I was diagnosed with Pick’s Disease, which will slowly, painfully kill me within a few years.

Since then, in a futile attempt to fight this affliction, I have changed my diet. I’m a vegan–with one exception: I am allowed two alcoholic drinks a night. I cut out the vodka and all medication, even OTC, except for my prescription Xanax (for panic; the diagnosis makes me afraid to sleep). My drink of choice is red Bordeaux. I know it isn’t vegan, or even vegetarian, but it is my only vice now.

No excuses, only apologies. To consume the product of or the flesh of ANY creature that died before its time to feed the greedy human masses is WRONG. Humans are exactly like cockroaches. Both reproduce squirming larvae, devour each other and shit all over creation. Cockroaches, however, are innocent. I do not kill them because they can’t help being who they are. But I’m starting to believe that Earth was colonized by aliens and that humans were not part of the planet’s original design, which is why it tries to kill us off with plagues and extreme weather. We have killed most of Earth’s original animal, insect, and plant inhabitants, and by so doing, we are killing our own nasty species, which is FINE with me.

Pick’s Disease is going to kill me, and I deserve it. We all deserve to die. I hope we do, before every beautiful thing left here is destroyed by the insatiable greed of land developers, oil/gas tycoons, pesticide/herbicide companies, and so forth. We are all monsters. Even those of us who care about what happens to what’s left of the wilderness still leave our carbon footprints behind, killing whatever lies beneath them. The best thing we can do for this planet is to eliminate the human race by whatever means are necessary.

George Carlin predicted that Earth will shake us off like a bad case of fleas. I hope he was right.


Screw the DEA

Last Friday I broke my ankle and another bone in my foot.  If you have never broken a bone, you have no clue how much it hurts.  I asked the nurse for Dilaudid, the strongest painkiller I know.  She gave me one measly shot in my ass and told me that Percodan was the only continuing medication I would get.  If Percocet, which is stronger and which contains acetaminophen, did not make make throw up, I would have accepted it.  OxyContin has neither aspirin nor acetaminophen in it, but even though OxyContin is the SAME MEDICATION AS PERCODAN, they wouldn’t prescribe it, either.

The watered-down version of Dilaudid with which the nurse injected me had no effect.  My foot was throbbing and swollen as as a grapefruit.  It hurt like hell.  The tech wrapped it with an Ace bandage because my foot was too swollen to be cast yet.  I was given a prescription for 16 4.8355-325MG Percodan and sent home.  The pharmacy was closed by then.  I lay awake in agony all night.

Now, if there is anybody out there who can answer this question, please do: Why do pharmaceuticals make painkillers such as morphine, Didluadid, Percodan, opium, OxyContin, codeine, methadone,  Tussionex, Tramadol, Demerol, Sublimaze, and Duragesic (among others) if these drugs are then prohibited from use by people who are in terrible pain?  I have been attacked violently by street dogs, was seriously injured in an automobile accident, and my future ex-husband beat the crap out of me, kicking me up and down my body and on my head so hard that, one inch higher, and he would have killed me.

Well.  For the dog attack, I received one week’s worth of Tylenol 3, which made me sick the whole time.  For the automobile accident, I got 10 tablets of 10 mgs Valium and two weeks of Phernergan with a small dose of codeine.  And, for the beating, I got two aspirin and a glass of water.  I should I have gone to the hospital, but my FEH was so afraid of the county sheriff throwing him in jail and my parents destroying his life that I let him off the hook.


He had a plane to catch home.  He didn’t know how to drive there, and I had to turn in the rental car anyway, so, despite my pain, I drove him there.  Even though he had beaten me almost to death, and I had to clean up the house, I found myself weeping at his departure.  We had been together four years, and I couldn’t face the thought of letting him go.  I also couldn’t bear the vision of anyone seeing the bruises on my face and body.

So I flew home two days later, as scheduled.  As the plane took off, I finally cried.

At home, I couldn’t sleep.  My body ached everywhere.  The heavy clothing I wore hid my bruises, so no one noticed them.  I had no remedy for the pain.  He had broken my ear and cracked my ribs.  If I hadn’t felt so ashamed, I would have gone to the hospital, I hurt so much.

But then, what would the hospital have done?

They’d have given me two Tylenol and sent me home.

Who gets the legally produced, pharmaceutical grade drugs the DEA takes away from those of us who legitimately need them?  What happens to these drugs?  Who gets to use them? Why are these pills no longer name-brand, but cheap, generic, less-potent quality?  If the DEA is so concerned about drug abuse, why are there so many meth labs operating, so much crack, so much Ecstasy?

Why the hell is alcohol LEGAL, but marijuana is NOT?  Alcohol kills people every day.  Marijuana does NOT.

Wake up, you disgusting prohibitionists.  If people want to buy narcotics, let them.  Let doctors have the right to prescribe painkillers to people who truly need them.  The DEA has NO RIGHT to prevent physicians from keeping their patients in agony because they think decide no one should rest in peace from a broken bone, or an invasive operation, or from a devastating accident.  That isn’t the government’s decision to make, but a doctor’s.

DEA, get out of a business about which you know nothing, about which you never studied in college or medical school–if you ever attended either–and let the doctors prescribe and treat their patients without your unwanted, uninvited, unwelcome interference.