A stumble is not a fall.
-- Haitian proverb

... unless you don’t get up.
You’re down to your last 8 pills and you’ve got another day before the UPS truck delivers your next supply. Why didn’t you place your online order earlier? You feel yourself getting anxious, knowing that even one of those pills would knock that edge off quickly, but you know you must space the pills out so you won’t run out. You pop two anyway then realize that in order to get through the day, you have no choice but to pull out the telephone book and prepare to “doctor shop.” You mark through the name of the last orthopedist you called to talk into an ample supply of the little pills, the one who didn’t require an examination, need your medical records, or recommend you be under medical supervision. You feel your edge subside as you dial the number of the doctor whose name is where your finger landed. “Yes, good morning. My name is ...”

... unless you don’t look at what you stumbled over.
As you listen to the muzak while you wait for the doctor, you think back on when you started taking the pills. You took a bad fall at work, spraining your ankle so badly, you wore a brace for months. The pain is gone now, but the feeling of calm and ease you felt after taking a pill caused your mind and body to depend on that feeling and crave it when it was absent. Now you pop a pill or two whenever you feel any anxiety coming your way, and, boy, do you have some stuff that worries you! From “black tax” job pressures and raising defiant children to unresolved personal issues that need the care of a professional therapist, you are tapped out and in need of something in order to cover and cope. But you don’t consider yourself a drug addict, don’t they have sunken faces and live on the street? You’re fully functioning with a job and an intact family. You can control this at any time and can certainly go cold turkey any time you want to. This you think as you wait for the doctor to come on the line while you hum along to a string, flute, and harmonica version of Barry Manilow’s “Can’t Live Without You.”

... unless you don’t move what caused you stumble.
A third song has played and you’re still waiting for the doctor to pick up the line. Now really, you think, you are functioning pretty well despite all the stuff you deal with on the daily. You manage 3 departments and make very decent money. Despite their constant rebelliousness, your kids, well, they are teenagers and isn’t that just what teenagers do? And you’ve certainly got enough money to hire the best psychoanalyst to help you get through all that bothers you. So, why are you sitting on the phone waiting for a doctor you don’t even know to write you a prescription for the painkillers? You don’t even know if he’ll even write you a prescription without all the hassle of an exam. And really, how functional can you be if you have to depend on a little white pill to get you from one hour to the next? Why are you masking what you’re really feeling? Oh yeah, that’s right, it’s too much to deal with. But at some point, aren’t you going to have to deal with it? You either have to deal with it or remain hostage to it and continue to play this game with doctors and yourself. And, if that little pill can alter how you’re feeling, imagine what’s it’s changing in your body; you could actually be changing the composition of your body and mind, impairing yourself in ways that are irreversible. If that’s happening, you really aren’t functioning, you’re about to fall apart. And if you fall apart, what then? Or, maybe you already fell apart and the pills are the only thing keeping you together. Okay, maybe you are addicted, you think, maybe you are a drug addict, and perhaps this is the wrong call to be making. You hang up just as the doctor picks up the line and thumb through the telephone book to NA, but not before flushing the last 6 pills into the toilet. You know that the rest of the day will be difficult without your crutch, and even imagine yourself lying in a ball, curled up and sweating, fiending for your little pills. And you know that when the delivery guy brings your supply tomorrow, you’ll be tempted to simply sign for it, take 2 more, then act as though nothing is wrong. At this moment, you pray that God gives you the strength to get through the day, refuse the package, and reclaim health and healing. You dial the number. “Yes, good morning. My name is ...”

Sadiqqa © 2007