I’m happy to say that I am a grown man who has never tried an illegal drug. I’ve never taken a puff of marijuana, never popped speed or snorted a powder. Not that I never had a chance.
Growing up in the 70s, 80s and 90s drugs were around. I was sort of the class clown in high school and some of the kids seemed to think it would be hilarious to see ‘choir-boy Jamey’ high. Not often, but a few times someone would try to get me to try a home-made cigarette. I never did.
I don’t say this now for any other reason than to say “Thank Goodness”. Narcotics and Jamey aren’t a good mix.
For the past week I’ve been on some heavy duty prescription narcotics for the kidney stones. The first prescription was strong enough for a few days but then a stronger pill was prescribed for the unbelievable pain. Little maroon capsules that helped me sleep through the night without the knives hitting my back and gut. They worked well. Except for last Friday morning about 5 hours before my surgery, these magic pills kept the pain away.
But now? They’re just messing with my head.
I was in such a fog yesterday I could barely function. Everything seemed like a dream. Every emotion was exagerated. Last night, while watching an old sitcom re-run I laughed like a hyperactive child at jokes I’d heard dozens of times. Moments later, a United Way commercial brought me to tears.
Trying to sleep last night my mind raced. Music was in my head. At midnight it was a 1960’s era shag tune. By 1am it was the rhamba. By 2, Glenn Miller. I had a New Year’s Eve party going on between my ears. A man in a dog suit made an appearance. And then bunnies.
The kidney stones are still holding court in my bladder. I’m hoping to get back to Nashville later today.