Sunday, April 11, 2010

There are worse addictions

Well, Neko and I have become thoroughly addicted to talking to one another. Every day, several hours each day, we talk...and talk...and talk. Sometimes it's about something significant, and other times it's about nothing important. But we talk! I even called her the other day to tell her I couldn't talk to her. How's that for backwards?

It was Friday, and it was time to refill prescriptions; I would actually be running out on one particular medication that day. My doctor decided to increase the Dilaudid I'm on, (that's replaced my percocet), so instead of 4 mg. I needed 8 mg. Before heading out to the pharmacy, I called to see if they even had it. Both pharmacies here didn't. I couldn't simply start calling around pharmacies in the next town over because I'd signed a contract with the pain management doctor. I liked the fact that I had to do that, as it meant he takes prescribing such meds seriously. Still, when you need to pick up 120 tablets of one kind or another, it becomes a kind of quest for drugs.

So I received permission to start calling around to see if anyone else had 8 mg. Dilaudid, and it seemed that NO ONE had it. What's more, Wal-Mart told me that when they order such strong narcotics, they don't get a confirmation on said orders, making it a surprise as to whether or not it'll show up with the next delivery. They said they would order it, but it wouldn't be in until next Wednesday, and that's if it showed up at all.

Another pharmacy said that Dilaudid only came in 2 mg. and 4 mg. doses, and that they'd never even heard of 8 mg. tablets. This news left me completely baffled. Why would my doctor write a prescription for nonexistent pills?

I called the doctor's office again, and was given more complications. My doc was OUT OF THE COUNTRY until later this month. Because I hadn't called every single pharmacy out there, giving up after four additional calls, they told me to finish calling EVERYONE before calling back.

I did as instructed, and the results didn't vary. The pills could be found nowhere. On my final call to the doctor's office, I was told that they would see what they could do and they would call me back once they had a plan.

Now came the call to Neko. We make our plans to talk the day before, and "call time" was rapidly approaching. I'm inept when it comes to checking my voice mail, so I've asked she not leave messages there, and I didn't want her to think I was suddenly ignoring her. Thus, I called her and said, "I called to tell you I can't talk." This earned a laugh, to which I did my best to rapidly explain what was going on. We were on the phone for all of three minutes, and that was that.

Shortly afterward, my doc's office called with a new plan. The staff couldn't write a new prescription for another medication, but they could write an altered one that allowed for 4 mg. tablets taken two at a time. A member of the staff would deliver it to a pharmacy near them, and all I had to do was travel to the next town to pick it up.

Okay. Good. Except that Ray's car still needs some repair work, and we would have to borrow his sister's car to get there. What's more, Steve was hanging around, and he decided to come with us. So we headed over to Ray's sister's place, only to have her and Wyatt want to join the quest for drugs. Thus, the five of us piled into the car and we were off.

Upon my arrival at the pharmacy, I then had to leap through insurance hoops. This has been an adventure unto itself lately. My AZ insurance remained in effect until either the end of February or the end of March. Trying to get an answer out of the people in AZ has proven fruitless. At one point, when I called to tell them I'd moved and they could discontinue my benefits, the dolt on the phone told me that I would have to come down to the office to make any changes to my benefits. "Ummm...I live in Kansas now, and there's no way I'm coming to your office!" So the morons waited until they received return mail before cutting me off. The overlap with my Kansas insurance had only produced headaches.

Right. I get my meds. But do we go home? Nope. Now we have to go out to eat. So we head for some place that serves up some of the most grease-laden food in town. I decide what I want, tell Ray, and then sneak off to... Neko. It's what was on my mind for most of the trip. "How much time is left to talk to Neko before it gets too late?" Once again, I couldn't be on the phone long, because now I was trapped at a noisy eatery with four other people. What's more, just when I though I'd found a relatively quiet part of the parking lot to make my call, some git on a motorcycle parked near me and just sat there, his engine running. (No gas crisis for him, eh?) It was another quick call, and with the promise that we would chat Saturday.

Wow, did we chat Saturday! I believe we had two two-hour conversations, with one interrupted for her to do something for someone in her house. (Long story made short: when she left her boyfriend, she moved back in with her parents, where her brother, who's getting a divorce, also lives.)

One of the things we've discussed is the fact that we are growing thoroughly addicted to talking to one another...even when the conversations are about that which I don't want to discuss.

*sigh* Long before I entered the picture, Neko had a friend who lives in Puerto Rico. Before she and I ever picked up a phone to chat, she made plans to travel down there to meet him. The reality is that their relationship is much more than long distance; it's international. It would be EXTREMELY difficult to turn it into more than what it is. Still, she's going to see him, which means it's likely more than a friendship.

This is what makes my growing attachment to Neko a bad thing. It's like trying to tie myself to a bit of water in the ocean. I like her a great deal. I care about her a great deal. And there have been a couple of moments where I almost slipped and said "the three words of doom" to her.

Y'know, for a guy that wants to minimize the drama in his life, I do an excellent job of creating quite a bit of it. But in terms of addictions, I suppose there are things that are much worse upon which to develop a dependency.

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