I Thought Laughter Was the Best Medicine. Then I Tried Fentanyl.
One time I broke my leg playing a game of pickup football. I was tackled by three people, and when I hit the ground I remember hearing my femur snap. When I got up and tried to walk, my left leg kind of swiveled around and made me stagger like I was drunk. I said, “Hey, we haven’t even had the first post-game beer yet!” Boy, did we laugh and laugh. Then one of the guys pulled a gun and shot me right through the shoulder. What cracked me up was that he’d clearly been aiming for my heart, but he missed it from only about six feet away. My balance was off, due to the broken leg, and when I fell down I landed funny (and broke my wrist) which started all of us laughing again. It made me feel a lot better, even though I couldn’t get up. I was laughing so hard. Plus I only really had use of one limb. So my efforts to rise from the ground looked like some kind of goofy break-dancing routine, which brought more levity to an already hilarious situation. Just for laughs, someone called an ambulance, and I was still chuckling on the stretcher when the medics loaded me into it.
But that was about 20 years ago; I was young and resilient, I guess. Things are a lot different now. About two years ago, on a day when I was already feeling crummy because I’d recently lost my job, I stubbed my toe on the leg of the coffee table. It hurt pretty bad, and I…
