The Atomic Priest VII

(The picture to the right is my wife, my Soul Mate, Jo Ann, who typically uses the screen persona, Jolie.)

I feel sick. But this is a good sick. Like I'm going to puke. Wretch. Vomit. I probably won't, but I feel like I'm going to. I have not taken any Methadone in over 52 hours. Oh, yeah. About that...

See, a while back--let's say 2004 for the sake of argument--I fell off the back of my brother-in-law's back porch. I admit, it was my fault, but the back of my skull came within millimeters of slamming into the edge of an engine crane. That would have hurt like hell. Instead, my lower left lumbar took the brunt of the fall. Now, rewind the clock to April of 1997. I was involved in a multi-vehicular collision (my fault...) which sucked big time. That had also done some damage to my spine. Now I live with degenerative arthritis, two slipped disks, and a herniated disk in my lower back...not to mention considerable pain from stress. A lot of stress.

Of course I have tried physical therapy. (Perhaps I will try it again; I don't think I gave it enough time.) In any event I am under-medicated. Grossly so. Seventy milligrams of Methadone per day is simply not enough and it will certainly not be enough once I begin an intensive physical therapy regime. My dad had already started physical therapy and he has also found himself in more pain, visa vi he requires more Methadone as a result.

I have been hinting around to my primary care physician now for quite some time to edge me up from seventy milligrams of Methadone a day to one hundred milligrams of Methadone per day. Seventy milligrams of Methadone per day is not enough. It isn't even in a therapeutic range, for God's sake. The therapeutic range of Methadone within a 24-hour period for a man my size is actually 120 milligrams--not 70. Any doctor worth his salt knows that. Just check Web M.D. or look up Methadone under (what's the name of that site?)--oh, yeah...Wikipedia! That's the one! Incredible information about Methadone there! They actually suggest anywhere from 80 to 140 milligrams of Methadone per day!

And why the hell not? I am not only in grievous pain, I am also a drug addict. No! Jesus. I don't do street drugs, however, I have been popping opioid narcotic painkillers now since I had my gal bladder operation way back in 1992--you know, the one that killed me. The one that I didn't sue Adventist Health over. Ever since then I got the taste for painkillers, I have done some remarkably stupid things to keep my drug addiction going. So my problem is two-fold; I definitely need painkillers (at least I have convinced myself of such) for my lower left lumbar, but I am addicted to the very thing that keeps me out of pain--the very thing that allows me to live a somewhat normal life. Additionally, my metabolism is quite rapid, though you wouldn't think so by looking at my body. I'm a big guy, a large man whose presence tends to frighten people, although that is the last thing I want to do. I love people, and that is a fact that even the Holy Spirit will attest to. Just pray about it. You'll find out by actually talking to me and giving me a chance. I am a good man. I am a remarkably nice fellow.

Please understand: I am not your usual junkie. I am, in fact, a human being who, through a series of events as far beyond my ability to control as the stars are from my naked eyes, I became embroiled in what so many human beings living in the United States of America--in particular, but in no way limited to such--wish to avoid. If it were possible, believe me (please believe me), I would go back in time and undo all of the things I have done to my body. I suppose I would have begged God while with Him to keep me. I would have committed suicide in order to remain with the Lord and avoid returning to this world. Knowing God, however, it would not have worked. You see, God wanted me to return, to help raise this family with this beautiful wife; to complete the mission, if you will, to do my part to help complete the underground salvation of the Earth without seeming insane.

But now it is far too late. I have come too far. So it is time to do what I can to explain the remainder of what you ought to know about me; it is time to do what I can to explain the remainder of what you ought to know about December 21, 2012 without coming off as a complete idiot.

Please read the Atomic Priest VIII & IX for further details. In those blogs I shall pursue what remains of my life following our arrival in California. Between now and the time the good Lords chooses to take me Home once and for all, I shall do everything in my power to make sense of a particularly senseless life up until now--not counting tomorrow or the time following; that is, if time exists at all, about which I have my doubts.

I no longer feel quite so sick anymore. Just weak.