Taking Grandma to Get Her Opiates
Trips to the pain clinic lead down messed-up Memory Lane
CW: self-harm, ED, suicide
One unseasonably muggy day after last Christmas, I sat wide-eyed and blinking as my grandmother’s doctor spoke of conspiracy theories. Casket sales increasing, he said. “By thirty, maybe forty percent, since the vaccines came out.”
I want to holler at his administrator, “Are you hearing this?” But I emit just a “hmm” and some hairline perspiration.
Grandma, weighing in at 103 while wearing her sneakers and coat, just nodded and grinned, kneading her thighs with arthritic hands. We were here on a vital matter. This white-coat myth monger holds power. He prescribes opiates, the only class of medication that gives my grandma relief from constant pain in her back and legs.
Since America’s public health officials declared an opioid epidemic in 2011, scoring legal narcotics means jumping through a few hoops and sticking with your pain management specialist, red flags notwithstanding.
My grandma has four sons, two daughters, sixteen grandchildren (I cannot say how many great-grandchildren there are, but she knows), and one great-great-grandchild. She recognizes every birthday, graduation, or wedding anniversary with cash-stuffed cards. She attends…
