Karma can be a bitch…

By Christopher Green

Right after posting about how much better I was doing, about how exercise and diet were making my life easier than it was before, the proverbial other shoe hit the floor.

Friday night was wonderful. All the stuff I was able to do with my nephew and his significant other, otherwise known as El and Margaret, made me hope, for a moment or two, that I had stabilized and that good things were coming my way.

But Saturday morning came and I was exhausted from all the excitement. All I could think about was the tickets we had to see a couple of folk singers, Mindy Smith and Pieta Brown, down and over at Kent State, about an hour’s drive from here, on Saturday night.

I had planned on sleeping during the day as a way to fortify myself for the long night ahead.

Well, I could not sleep; I was tossing and turning, perhaps trying too hard. To top it off, the guys were here to finish up our new room, which included knocking down a couple of walls made of windows. It was noisy, to say the least.

I ended up not being able to get out of bed in time for the concert.

I gave the tickets to El and Margaret so that they could still go. Since I put the tickets in Will Call, it made it easier to give them the tickets. All I had to do was forward the receipt from my Email over to them. No rushing around exchanging physical tickets. The computer age is now personal.

I was so happy on Friday night that I felt on top of the world.

And I was excited because I had planned to get over to Margaret’s house so we would finally have some time getting to know her parents.

Well, Saturday came and brought me back down to earth.

It was really silly of me to extend Friday night’s fun far later than I should have. We were out for more than six hours. It is hard to let go of a good thing, especially while it is happening. I didn’t want the night to end.

I am sure that being 53 did not make it all that easier on my poor body.

I guess I just wanted my old life back, the one from 1986, the first year I had of being totally sober and completely free of cigarettes. But that was yesterday, and yesterday’s gone.

What was that other saying? Hubris comes before the fall.

Well the fall wasn’t dramatic, but it was eye opening. From now on, I am going to plan at least a few days between big events. After all, I still have a much-diminished set of lungs.

And now it is early Sunday morning and it is time for me to do the weekly filling of the pill containers. I have three; one for prescription pills related to my lungs, one for scrips related to my heart and one with vitamins and other over the counter pills I take.

Overall, I take between 12 and 14 different pills or inhalers depending on what day it is. Sometimes I wonder about all these things I ingest. I wonder if a couple of decades down the road they will laugh at us, laugh at the amount of dangerous chemicals we gladly took into our bodies. I wonder if they won’t take our addiction to pills and potions and equate that behavior with the cures and ointments that the ancients swore by to ward off death and disease.

Is there really all that much difference between going to a medicine man back in say Ancient Rome and seaking comfort from today’s pharmacy? I know, I know there is a big difference between modern medicine and folk lore cure alls, but you have to see that there is a connection.

After all, isn’t yesterday’s Shark Fin today’s Viagra?


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