Pubdate: Thu, 16 Dec 2004
Source: Marion Star, The (OH)
Copyright: 2004 The Marion Star.
Contact: http://www.marionstar.com/customerservice/contactus.html
Website: http://www.marionstar.com
Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/2991
Author: Ron Simon
Note: Ron Simon is a reporter for the Mansfield News Journal

DRUGS ARE A PLAGUE SOME CANNOT RESIST

A few years ago after a nasty operation at Cleveland Clinic, I became
aquatinted with my Pain Pal.

Pain pal was a little box with a dial that was connected to a tube
that was connected into me. And me hurt. Bad!

So Pain Pal was my buddy. When the pain reached the point of near
black out, I would twist the dial and Pain Pal would shoot soothing
drugs into me that would put the pain on the back burner.

Which is how I survived the experience.

But Pain Pal was not my buddy. If I had my way I would twist that dial
all day long, keeping pain at a far distance. The doctors and staff at
Cleveland Clinic slowly pulled me off Pain Pal. Which was painful.

Had I stayed on, something worse would have happened to me. I'd have
been hooked on Pain Pal's product, a first-class pain killing drug.

Like most, I was resentful about having to give up the pain killers.
Long after I left the hospital it hurt to move. It simply hurt all the
time. Sometimes terribly.

But short of a shot of basic aspirin my doctor's advice was to lump
it. Take mild exercise, they said. Mild exercise was awful. Just a
groaning time as I struggled down the driveway and tried to stay
erect. I must have looked like a drunk as I staggered up the street,
cursing roundly under my breath. Damn! I wanted Pain Pal back.

No dice. Cold turkey.

For some people the pain never goes away. For me, like most, it began
to ebb. Every morning getting out of bed was a little easier. One day
the terrible need for a jolt of sweet relief from my Pain Pal was gone.

I have had difficulty with alcohol. I know lots of people who have
tangled with the stuff and been hurt. The same goes for tobacco. My
breathing is labored and I know why. My fault. My Old Man warned me
repeatedly in between severe coughing spells, about what would happen.
As usual, he was right.

Today my idea of a pain pill is an arthritis concoction. But someday
that won't be enough. I dread that day.

So I can easily understand the stories of people who have come to
grief and then death on pain killers.

But drugs are another world. Marijuana was recreational stuff in my
day. Heroin was for the guys in the alleys. Cocaine? Never heard of
it. But so many people flock to the stuff. People you know and love.

We knew, of course, that drugs are a plague. It's always a shock to
learn that a nephew, a niece or grandchild is hooked on something as
powerful as heroin. Or your best friend, your fianci, your brother or
even a parent. It happens. Perhaps not randomly but
persistently.

Why is something I'm not sure about, unless my own experiences with
cigarettes, booze and Pain Pal are an indicator.

You may have had the same experience. Felt the same needs. Powerful,
sometimes irrational needs. We are not living in paradise or even a
reasonable facsimile.

All I know is that you can't walk away from this heart breaker because
it comes and finds you. As long as you love and are loved back, those
you love could be in danger.

The chances are good you know somebody on drugs. Somebody you love.
Somebody you would go the extra mile for. Get ready to do it.

Ron Simon is a reporter for the Mansfield News Journal.
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