I’m writing this in my deer blind on a gorgeous sixty-degree evening, hoping the deer don’t mind the motocross racers practicing loudly on the other side of this tree line. 
I have more news, but I will save that for next time.

Happy December!
Carey

Oh and check out my Etsy shop, we have some new products from my days of photographing on the farm, especially this new mask!

Some of you may be surprised and some may feel it’s a given.

I was addicted to narcotics.  I didn’t know it until I stopped taking them.  My body was addicted eight weeks into my recovery.   That fast.  I was probably addicted sooner than that and had no idea.

Why did I stop taking them? 

I wasn’t feeling the “high” that everyone talks about.  I felt severe vertigo.  The kind where I couldn’t lift my head from my pillow on my hospital bed located in my living room.  I was unable to turn my head left or right without walls spinning. 

  I felt that something was inside of me, shredding the walls of my stomach with sharp claws.  Gnawing, rummaging and finding nothing, gnawing more.   That made me vomit or dry heave as I spoke to loved ones on the phone.   I would swing the phone away from my mouth, so they couldn’t hear my soft gags, but I could still listen without ending our conversation.

These narcotics caused me immense discomfort, but lessened my pain, to an extent. My surgeon told my husband when I was released that I would still be in pain, but all we could do was hope I didn’t remember it. For months I was on the heavy hitters. Oxycontin, Oxycodone, Vistaril, Flexeril, Valim, Neurontin and Norco. AT THE SAME TIME! Plus my husband had to administer Lovenox injections into my mid section nightly.

The bad days, the most difficult days came through.  Those I remember vividly.  Those days keep me humble today.

How did I know I was addicted? 

Irritable, sweating, then the shakes.  Even through my delirium I knew what was happening to me.  I told my husband I was having withdrawals and it would be a few days before I was “normal” again.

In my mind I was being proactive.   Telling myself as soon as I could stand the pain, I was going to stop taking them.  My body made the decision for me.   Calling my surgeon, I explained everything.  Telling him I couldn’t take all this medicine any longer, but I could barely exist without it.   His decision was to let me decide.  Calling me in a less powerful narcotic and allowing me to make decisions on when to use the “hard stuff”.

It was the worst kind of awful there was.  I lived with it.  The pain.  The side effects of the medicines were competing with the pain of my injuries.

  How could it get worse?

 I rode it out in waves, every day.  As months passed, I would look back, just as my surgeon suggested and could see where I was and how far I had come.  That is what kept me pushing forward and the fact that as our four children walked in the door from the bus each afternoon, they would be the highlight of my days. 

Working in the medical field I knew, I saw this happen to others.  Real injuries, real pain that led to addiction.  I knew I would never be that person…………until I was.

I am fortunate that the side effects leave an undesirable hold on me.  Many are not as fortunate.  For a couple of years after I stopped ingesting them routinely, I would take one at bedtime if I couldn’t knock the demon of pain back to where I could handle it.  I allowed myself three nights of this and wouldn’t take a pill on the fourth.  Even after all this time, my body desired this drug.  Stopping on the fourth night caused me to sit in my recliner with jitters, restless leg syndrome, unable to focus and I knew completely if I went to my pill bottle, I could make it stop.

I suffered, prayed my way through it, eventually deciding it wasn’t worth the consequences of taking those bastards.  Now I do everything I possibly can do ease my pain without them.  Sometimes waiting too long and paying the price, but I will not go back there.  I will sit full time in a wheelchair before I shove those down my throat daily.

I can fill a script for sixty pills a month if I want to.  I believe I’ve picked up sixty in the last two years, only by choice. 

I am so real.  I am so humbled.  I know exactly who I am and what I am capable of.  This experience has taught me that.  In my low moments I remind myself of that.  There are times I must be gentle with myself and there are others that I scream and demand more of my courage and commitment. 

It has been quite some time since my husband has created a spread sheet for my medicines, placed cups with filled with pills and times of when they should be administered on our kitchen counter.  Gone are the days of setting alarms for those same pills.  I couldn’t do it on my own in the beginning, but I am a different woman now.  My head is clear, I know my path and I am Stronger than Yesterday.

What I didn’t expect was the unbelievable hospitality and feel of this community.  What I also didn’t expect was to give three school presentations and be asked to give a faith presentation for the community.   At this point there was nothing that was going to keep me from traveling to their neck of the woods. 

I am not asked to speak openly about how my faith played a major role in my recovery to often,  even though many say they can hear it or feel it.  I love speaking about my faith,  that is the entire reason I am traveling the country riding on an emotional roller coaster!  God kept putting it out there for me to hear and when I was ready, I grudgingly accepted.  Now you can’t get me to stop!

Having a home cooked meal with the FFA officers of Riverdale High School and faculty was amazing.  Like the food was Uh-Maz-Ing.  Miss Casey is known for her glorious dishes.  All three school presentations were intimate.  Small school districts mean I am up close and personal during the assembly.  Eyes meeting eyes.  Head nods and of course tears.  It’s not that I intend to make people cry, but they feel what I feel when describe the details of our family’s situation. 

The presentation that would not allow me to sleep though was the evening community faith presentation.  We were so close that I didn’t even use a microphone. I was on an emotional high anyway and with speaking about my faith, I knew I was going to be a hot mess. 
After answering questions, it was asked if they could pray over me.  Something I used to feel entirely awkward about because no one had ever done this for me until after my crash.  Today I welcome it and use each and every prayer I receive.  I walked down from the stage and stood by the lovely woman who asked.  What I did not anticipate was that within seconds every person would move from their seat and surround me.  

I put my hands on my mouth and told her I thought I might lose it.  Everyone had a hand on another person’s shoulders and when she laid her hand on mine we were all connected as one.  That moment, that small moment when I felt the warmth, energy and overall comfort come from this group through her hand was something I had never experienced before.  Guess what happened next.   Yes, I lost it. 

Immediately.  The kind where huge crocodile tears, hot as my bath water streamed down my cheeks.  I did that thing that women do when they can’t control their emotions.  I tried to catch my breath and instead of one nice long suck inwards it was four short clipped breaths and my chest heaved so big that I think it hit my chin. 
Before long I didn’t know if they wetness on my lips from was the floodgates of my eyes or snot running out of my nose!  Not kidding.  It was the BEST experience ever.