A few months ago, I woke up in the morning like every other morning, sad. I laid in bed put on my makeup and fixed my hair for the day, all while listening to songs that reminded me of Brian over and over again. I stopped, looked over at his pictures and his urn beside me and said "Can you talk to me? Send me some kind of sign like you care." I took a deep breath and continued getting ready for the day.
While I was at work talking with my coworker a bird flew up to the window, perched on the seal and looked in at us. I stopped mid sentence and looked at that bird, searching to see if that was by chance my husband reaching out to me. The cynic in me said "No, it's a bird".
I then went to talk with our office manager that said she was thinking of me and the new fire pit the kids and I had built over the weekend, and she said she was contemplating buying me something at the store but wasn't sure, until she opened the car door and there was a penny laying on the ground. She is a firm believer in "pennies from heaven". So she bought the kids some supplies to make smores, and roasted starbursts. She said she knew it was him, and then gave me the penny.
I went back to my office feeling just a little bit lighter, and while browsing around checking on my companies and any upcoming events I should be promoting, I came across an old Elvis Presley song "In His Hands".
I had an appointment that day. See I suffer from SEVERE knee pain, I can barely walk most days it gets so bad. Since my husbands passing I refused to take any medications. I didn't want to see any more pain doctors, to me they were all the same. They wanted money, they didn't care about the person. It had been about 4 months and the pain had gotten so bad that the only way I could describe it was the tin mans joints that were rusted and stuck. Now I don't abuse them, I take an extremely low dose, and I plan to always keep it that way, so I don't become dependent. I am too young to have the surgery needed on my knees, and no doctor has a clear answer on exactly HOW to treat my knees since they are a disaster in there. It took a lot for me to call the doctor, but I caved and had scheduled an appointment with the last doctor that prescribed my husband narcotics.
I was very anxious. Not sure I wanted to go in there, but knowing I had no other choice. I was thankful I did. The doctor sat across from me and told me she was so thankful I came in. She wanted to reach out to me so many times but didn't quite know how to, or if she even legally could reach out to me, so she waited hoping I would walk through that door.
Suddenly I felt as though Brian were in the room with us, sitting right next to her encouraging me to listen, like he needed me to hear this, the truth. His last moments.
Everything I had thought happened at that doctors office was wrong. Brian had walked in there that day and wanted to be prescribed 4 oxycodone 30mg a day, and wanted Xanax. She looked at him and his charts and knew he had a problem, but she wanted to help him. She refused to give him any Xanax, and only continued to treat him with the 3 oxycodone a day, that had been previously prescribed from his referring doctor. She only gave him two weeks worth and told him when he comes back he needs to bring "his wife" me, with him. She wanted to make attempts to help him get off from oxycodone, but knew he needed support and her trust. She knows she could have turned him away, he followed all the behaviors and patterns of a drug addict, but she looked at him and knew there was SO much more to this man. She could see the goodness in him. She knew she wanted to help.
She showed me that she was not the doctor that prescribed him Xanax. Now I know I could go searching for the doctor that gave him the Xanax, but the reality is that it won't change anything. He was seeking pills and he played the doctors. She wouldn't give him the Xanax he was looking for so he went elsewhere. I doubt the doctor that prescribed the Xanax knew he had just gotten prescribed oxycodone. He filled both prescriptions that Friday and that Saturday morning he was gone.
I had carried around so much bitterness and so much anger for the injustices of my husbands death. I am still angry, but now my anger is more directed at the original doctor that would not listen to me from the beginning that gave him an absurd amount of prescriptions that helped pave this horrific path we found our selves on over the course of the years. I still harbor anger for all the people that I had previously mentioned in other posts. But this time, this doctor, she was right. She has a great heart. I was humbled to realize that not ALL doctors only care about the money. She told me countless stories of people that she has turned away in the past, or patients she encouraged to seek treatment, and helped them manage their addictions. She showed how much she cares for people, not the money.
I am thankful every time I see her. I find her heart to be true, and someone I can trust. She will make a difference in this world with one patient, and one addict at a time. Why? Because she truly cares, and I hope she never loses that passion, that heart, and that drive.
Thank you for believing in my husband, thank you for trying your best. I am sorry we did not meet you sooner. Brian was with us that day. I know he was, because he needed me to listen to you, to trust you...and I do.
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