Sa Junk

There's this thing I do. It's sort of so ingrained, it's just my life. And yesterday I wondered, "Sa, you should be talking about this. Your thing. Your way." Am I the only one that talks to themselves? Most of the time I think it's a normal thing to do. But maybe it's not. I think this is what teenagers do to your brain.

Here's the deal. I do pain and pills (it's so cute they both start with P's) all day. Weird, right? To me its just life as usual. Migraines and hip pain (that is unexplainable and can't be diagnosed). Pain is my co-pilot. And so, pills are my best friends. Have been forever. But, the average over-the-counter stuff? Pfft. Those are vitamins. I'm at a much higher pay grade.

And let me just stop you right here from giving me a lecture or advice. Especially about migraines. There is nothing, and I mean nothing, I haven't tried, considered, tested for, etc.  When someone new finds out that I have a headache Every. Day., they get real wise and think they know more than someone who has lived this way for 20 years. Oh, you silly people. You're funny.

Every 6 months or so, my pain doctor convinces me to try another round of "injections". That's just code for-- put you under and inject some sort of nerve block in your joint with a needle as long as a wiener dog. The end.

But, here's what I really, really want to tell you about. There is this moment. This glorious, beautiful moment. It happens when they transfer your hospital gown clad body onto the operating table and they strap oxygen onto your face. And then....oh and then...they shoot some sort of miracle drug into your IV. This is the stuff that will eventually knock you out, but it takes a beautiful while to do so. Yipee!

But listen up. Super close. Lean in. For about 30 seconds, I. Love. The. Entire. World. That juice is golden. I have never ever, ever, ever felt so good as I do in those 30 amazing seconds. In that blip of time, I have prophetic visions. Most of the time, they boil down to this: I would be a way better mom if I could run this through my blood stream all day long.

Maybe my new nickname should be Junkie. That's got kind of a crafty twist to it. Oh, I know. It can be my "Street Name". Like, I'm bad to the bone. That up's my cool factor by like, 120%. Maybe my teenagers will like me better if everyone starts calling me Junkie. Actually, how about Sa Junk? That's got Street Cred all over it! I like it. Lots and lots. Sa Junk. I'm so cool now, I may just start using emoticons in my texts. (Probably not, I hate when adults use those.)

I'm thinking of starting a club (I tend to do that a lot). The "Beautiful 30 Seconds" Club. Only true, experienced members can join. You get a Street Name when you enroll.

I'm giddy.

Enjoy your weekend, my people.
Take some pills and think of me.