I was struggling to get my eyes to focus as I was coming out of the anesthesia.
“Timothy, what is your pain level?” were the first words I heard in a muffled voice.
I didn’t respond. My body was adjusting quickly and this time the voice was much louder and more distinct.
“Timothy, how are you doing, are you feeling alright?”
It seemed like hard work to gather my confused thoughts. Somehow, I managed to respond with a big smile on my face. “I’m doin’ okay, but I think I’m gonna be late for soccer practice tonight.”
The nurse smiled and I saw her walk over to the surgeon and the anesthesiologist. They had a quiet chat and a few raised eyebrows along with a shrug from the surgeon. Then they quickly got back to their notes as the nurse walked away.
Five Hours Prior
Five hours ago, I had a conversation with the anesthesiologist that eventually had us both teary eyed. I was tired of this conversation. I had the identical conversation with three other anesthesiologists over the past several months which led to the same outcome. So, I waited until they were ready to roll me in the operating room, knowing it would minimize the argument. The anesthesiologist gave me the run-down on what to expect as they put me under. Then he asked if I had any questions.
“Actually, I have two,” I said.
He gave me a nod and I asked what his name was.
“Anthony,” he said.
“It’s nice to meet you, Anthony.”
I paused for a few seconds as I looked him directly in the eyes.
“Anthony, I do not want any opioids before, during, or after this surgery, can you promise you won’t give me any while I am asleep?”
He looked a little frazzled and I expected him to just say he would promise, but he didn’t. He explained to me that this surgery was going to be fairly traumatic, and they were going to be cutting, grafting, and drilling a lot of bone. I told him that I had just had a four-level laminectomy a couple months ago and they cut 3 inches into my spine spanning almost a foot long and I did just fine with no opioids. Then he told me he couldn’t promise that because if my heart rate starts to climb while I am “under” he would have to give me something to control the pain to bring it back down. I appreciated his honesty.
“Let me rephrase the question. Anthony, can you promise you will do everything in your power to avoid opioids unless there are some unforeseen circumstances?”
“That, I can do,” he said with a smile.
He went on to tell me that if I am worried about a relapse, it was doubtful that it would come from anything that they did in the operating room. I responded almost identically to the way I had responded for the last three surgeries.
I have no doubt that I would ever relapse after almost a decade of living clean and sober but here’s the thing: (I am very loosely paraphrasing)
"I had made hundreds of promises, but I only needed one promise to actually mean something, and that was the last promise I would ever have to make."
Addicts are great promise makers but terrible promise keepers. I stood at my dresser night after night making the same promise to myself and they always had a condition. I promise I will quit drinking after I get through… I’ll quit as soon as this case is gone. As soon as (fill in the blank) is over I will stop, I promise. No, this time it’s for real. Just one more handful of pills, I don’t want to waste them. Time and time again I had made promises with no meaning. The more broken promises, the easier it was to break them and less meaningful they became. I would still make them because it would make me feel like I was at least trying. I broke promises to my friends and my family with no regard and I broke promises to my precious wife repeatedly.
Then it happened. I made just one last promise as I saw my world fading away. I had made hundreds of promises, but I only needed one promise to actually mean something. That was the last promise I would ever have to make. As I laid in bed that night, I promised myself that I would never use substances to avoid and escape pain again. It was a simple promise, and I was more focused on emotional and spiritual pain, but I made it with no conditions.
On all four of my opioid-free surgeries I ended the conversation in tears as I explained that there is no pain that any surgery could cause that would ever compare to the pain that opioids have brought to my life and the people I love. And with that, they wheeled me away to the OR.
Tough Tim
I’ve been called “Tough Tim” by my spinal surgeon, told I have a high pain tolerance by my ankle surgeon, and was told I was not human by a PA. The reality is that none of that is true. I can tell you I am a big baby when it comes to pain. If I get the flu I can guarantee I am in bed in the fetal position whining to my wife about how no one knows how terrible this flu is. The same flu she had a few days before and never missed a beat.
I’ve had numerous people feel the need to tell me I don’t have to be a hero and I don’t win any medals for enduring unnecessary pain. Let me offer you this: I am a hero, but it has nothing to do with pain and everything to do with keeping a promise to myself. A promise that, at times, scares the hell out of me and has me question why I ever made it.
Sure, I won’t win a medal for enduring pain and being brave. But I do hold a trophy high over my head and a song of gratitude in my heart because not only did God see fit to give me a second, third, and fourth chance, He carries me through these uncomfortable moments and seasons. There may be a day where I cannot choose. Until that day I will keep my promise with everything within me as I celebrate freedom from addiction.
If you struggle with addiction, please get help now. Don’t wait. You have no idea how good life is on the other side of the darkness. One promise can bring you out of the pit and help you regain your life.
If you don’t struggle with addiction, please keep in mind that folks do things for reasons you may not know. If someone refuses a drink, it’s okay, it’s not that they don’t want to “have a good time.” They may be a struggling alcoholic and having a bad day. Maybe they could use your support by just brushing it off and moving on. If someone refuses a painkiller, they may have experienced pain far beyond what the pill would ease. Maybe they are not acting tough and stubborn, maybe they made themselves the……
“Addict’s Promise”
Until next time, take care of yourselves and stay healthy,
Much love,
TK
