I don't remember too much after that. I do remember asking Chris for my pills and taking about three of them. The first one didn't do anything for me and I was in a lot of pain. I guess my tolerance wasn't what it used to be, because I must have passed out. When I did wake up, Chris was sitting in the chair next to me, as he did before, sort of watching, TV. He looked like he was watching it, but you could tell he was staring right through it.
"Hey," I said.
"Hey you're self, you ok?" he asked. "You were out for a while."
"Yeah, I'm ok," I answered. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing, really. Paul called; I told him you were sleeping. Jay called also, told him the same thing. Jay was worried about you."
"Yeah, well if I have more than one pill in the time I'm supposed to, he freaks."
"I know, he's looking out for you. Not saying I'm not, but I know what it's like, being in pain and not being able to feel better."
Chris looked at me like he wanted to say more, but hesitated.
"Been there?" I asked.
"Yes, well no, not down any road that could compare to what you've been down. I do know what it's like to be in pain, we're all in pain. Once you're hurt, you're hurt forever, a week off helps, but not really. I'd give anything to be able to wake up and get out of bed without pain, without the limp, but that's part of the territory. You sign up knowing that's what'll happen. I've been on pain pills before, and the taste is good, and it's tempting, but nothing is that good. Nothing like that can last forever. You have to get over that taste, I don't know."
I knew, I understood what he meant. Since coming here I've only been on real pain meds twice, now, and when I first hurt my back. Other than that, it's been Advil and aspirin. I can't lie and say that each time the taste didn't bring me back, because it does. Like Chris said, the taste is good. Even when you weren't, or are, an addict like I was, the taste is good, and dangerous, especially in our line of work. It's so easy, one slip and you're gone, and you don't even know it. For me, it was that more tempting. I was down there; I knew what that taste was really like. I'd be a liar if I didn't say it would have been so easy to fall right back.
Chris didn't mention it after that and I wasn't going to bring him down there. People talk when they want to, and you don't force them. I never heard about any of my boys having any real problems with the stuff, or any stuff like it. I guess I could say I was lucky to have them as my friends. I was in good company as they say.
No one's perfect, and we are human, so everyone is prone to it. But, not everyone gets hooked. I'm not about to try and understand addiction and why some people are and others aren't. That's not at all my place, but I had been there, and I didn't think anyone in our group understood, but Chris seemed to have some sort of understanding.
Chris was quiet after that; he really didn't have much to say. I don't think he had any real intention on saying anything about how he felt about pain meds, or whatever history he had with them. Whatever history he did have with them, it wasn't all that clear to me. I think there was some sort of history, and I wouldn't try and beat it out of him, but I don't think Chris himself even fully understood.
My phone went off, with no surprise, it was Jay.
"Hey, Jay, what's up?" I asked into the phone.
"Checking in, how are you feeling?" he asked.
"Fine, napped for a bit, felt good."
"You sure you're ok?" he repeated.
"Yes, you don't have to check up on me and the bottle of pills," I said.
"What makes you think I am?"
"Hunch," I said. "Look, I know that you're worried, but I'm ok, I'm going to be ok."
"I guess," he said. "Who else is going to worry about you like I do?"
And he was right. No one worried about me like Jay. Not to say that no one did, but not like Jay. He almost took it too far, but kept it within boundaries.
"Suppose, but I am going to be ok, just have to trust me. I have it this time, I have it all figured out. I am ok."
"I guess," Jay said. "I am here if you need anything."
"Talked to Jeff at all?" I asked.
"Um, no, not recently," Jay answered. "Maybe a few days ago."
"He's due back soon, right?"
"Yeah, by the end of the month," Jay answered.
"I'm sure he can't wait."
"You either?" Jay asked.
"Of course," I said.
"Don't hurry back and I mean that. You do that and you won't be able to come back. There's nothing worse than that."
"I know," I said.
"Serious, you don't want to enter the wrestler's retirement home now, it'd be a shame. Too many old people and you're way too hot for that," Jay said laughing at the end.
"Cute, real cute."
"I know, but I am serious. You don't want to come back years later on RAW or something trying to bang your moves out but you can't because you're body's shot. You know those guys."
"I do."
"And do you want to be one? I don't think so. Too much talent, it'd be wasted, and that would be a shame," Jay said to me.
He was right, as always. I couldn't argue that.
"Do you have therapy today?" Chris asked me once I got off the phone with Jay.
"Yes, hour I think," I answered. "It sucks."
"Pain, I know, nothing like it," Chris said.
"Nothing at all, and I've had a lot of pain," I said. "My body doesn't want to do it, I have to push."
"Isn't that the point?" Chris asked. "Besides, it's so worth it in the end."
"Very worth it."
I've had different sorts of physical therapy with my various injuries, most small. The worst was a year or so ago when I originally hurt my back. Though I have to say, that looked worse than it actually was and my out time was a lot less. This was different than that, and the therapy was brutal. This is a solid year, a painful year.
"I'll disappear for that hour if that's ok," Chris said to me. "I know I wouldn't want to be watched while going through that."
"Thanks," I replied. "It's terrible."
"I'll be upstairs, with the FoodNetwork," Chris told me.
"Ok, just remember what you saw, make it later," I replied.
Chris laughed, "it's a deal."
When the time came, Chris started getting a few things together, things to eat and drink. He wanted to be sure that he wouldn't have to come downstairs for anything. He went upstairs with handfuls of things.
My therapist let herself in. She pretty much knew to. She smiled when she saw me, knowing that I wasn't at all happy to see her. She put all of her things down and moved the coffee table. It was easier than trying to do it on couch. It was all stretching and range of motion exercises.
"Nice and slow," she told me. "I want to see where you're at with walking, just a lap around the living room. We'll stretch you out just slightly."
"Wonderful," I said.
The stretching was the worst part. It wasn't the normal stretching pain, but an actual burn. Stretching wasn't my forte, believe it or not. I am not, and was not most flexible person in the world; which because of the things I do, seems to amazed just about everyone. The only thing I can say about it, it's totally different. I don't contort my body in the ring, I fly, and whatever my body does in the air is a product of the moment when you don't feel gravity. I am the worst in submission matches, which is why I hardly ever use any submission moves. Even in certain pinning situations I feel that small bit of a burn. I am one of the least flexible people in the locker room, and definitely ranked last amongst the women.
With all that said, you can only imagine how I felt during these stretching exercises. The goal was to increase the flexibility in my lower back, not just because I didn't have any to begin with, but to stretch out the ones in my back. If I just sit there and let it heal up on it's own, I'll never walk right again, let alone get in the ring.
"Any changes?" my therapist asked me. I shot her a look. "I know you don't feel it now, but trust me, I do sense a difference."
"It burns in the bottom of my foot," I told her.
"Ok," she said. She had lifted my leg up to the same height as the couch, my toes pointing straight up to the ceiling.
"Is that bad? I mean stuff like that happened before the surgery."
"Before the first surgery too?" she asked.
"Um, I honestly I don't know," I answered.
"I'm not concerned because of the sort of surgery you had. We just have to make sure to keep an eye on it and see how it progresses. If it was something that was happening before the first surgery, I might be a bit concerned, but still, with what happened I am not going to get too worried just yet."
What made walking so hard was the time I spent in the hospital on top of the tingles I had in my leg. Though I felt instant relief after surgery, and even better after the swelling went down, but it was still a long road.
I also didn't know what made my last surgery so different than this. I had an open back for two days, and basically a similar surgery, but now I was out a year instead of two months. Despite all that had happened to me 2 years ago, I couldn't, for some reason, recover as I did.
It frustrated me.
"How does walking feel?" my therapist asked me.
"Eh," I answered.
"Don't push it," she said.
"I'm good," I answered.
"Most people make themselves worse because they try to overdo it."
"I didn't need all this last time," I said. "And I thought I was a lot worse."
"You have to think, you basically did the same thing twice, and in doing it again it was a re-aggravation of the originally injury. There was server nerve damage this time around. Your previous injury was more swelling with a little nerve damage, not this time around. So don't push it."
I nodded, but didn't understand it. It didn't make sense to me, and it only frustrated me. My lap was long and painful. I didn't want to show my pain. But she saw right through me and told me to sit. I needed help.
"You're progressing," she said. "I like the track were on, we are right on schedule."
"Any chance of being a head of schedule?" I asked.
"Like I said, don't push it."
She gave me a look. I sat there as she got her things together.
"How's the pain?" she asked.
"Eh, I dunno," I answered."Pills help."
"Taking them right?"
"Yes," I answered. "They take enough of the edge off."
Which was true, I could easily down three of them and feel nothing, but I never took more than two, I still wanted to feel that tinge of pain. It made know I was still alive and not under the grip of the meds.
"How many refills are you aloud?"
"I honestly don't know," I answered.
"Don't play the system you," she told me.
She had to know my history. Playing the system is so simple, especially in this line of work. Pharmacists don't ask too many questions when you're traveling. They know who we are and it's so easy to find a doctor who will just write the script for you just based on who you are.
"Look," she said. "I know this is murder for you, I know, in small detail your past and I know that you are jumping to get back. You can't, you have to, and you want to come back right? I don't know much about your line of work, but I know it's physical, and you can't do anything physical until you heal the right way. Listen to me, ok; I do this for a living."
I nodded my head.
"I'll be back in two days," she said.
I nodded again and she let herself out. Chris came back down about five minutes after that. I was on the couch.
"Well?" he asked. I shrugged. "What? Oh, you're still not walking right and you're not where you wanna be. Look, Des, get over it. Yeah, it sucks, and it's going to suck until the moment you get the clear to get back in the ring. Do you want to know what would be worse? Not being able to get back. Is that something you want? Is that what you're aiming for? Because that's what it sounds like to me, that's what I hear. What you need to realize, and not in a sugar coated way, is that all of this crying and bitching about the length of your recovery is crap. Bite the bullet, because it's going to be a long time and you need to focus more on your therapy and getting back than the time it's going to take. I promise you, if you rush this you won't come back and all you're going to be bitching about then is wishing you had listened to everyone."
I put my head down and Chris went into the kitchen.