Blake, Tyson, and I, John Deacon, were in the lunchroom at the plant. The three of us were supervisors and we were discussing the death of one of the workers at the plant, Lamar Jenkins.
"That's the second one that OD'd this year, and it's only May."
Lamar was on Blake's crew. Blake continued,
"Fuckin doctors shouldn't be prescribing that shit, it's lethal."
Tyson was of a differing opinion,
"Bullshit, that's just bullshit Blake, them people who OD they do it to themselves. Young people are just too wimpy these days. A little injury and they got to have a pill. Back when I was their age a little ding from the forklift wouldn't even slowed me down."
"Sure, Tyson and you walked uphill both to and from school carrying your two sisters on your back."
Tyson didn't appreciate my humor.
"Real funny John, no it's the truth people take no responsibility these days. Look at the absenteeism, listen to the answers when someone fucks up. What happened to 'I screwed up and won't do it again' now it's all someone else's fault."
Blake jumped back in,
"Look Tyson, I hear you man, but these opioids are super addicting for some people. Pain is pain we all feel it different. We're all not as tough as you. I tend to agree with you about people taking drugs cuz they want to but the ones that get injured that's a tragedy when they get hooked on the pain meds."
I knew it wasn't just the doctors though,
"It's not just the doctors; we have our own problem Brook's Bar and Grill. Everyone knows that's where you go for your nonprescription fix."
The buzzer went off and we had to go back to work, once again not solving all the world's problems on our lunch break. I was in agreement with Blake, druggies who did it to themselves that was their problem but getting hooked after an injury that was different. There had to be better painkillers out there that didn't make you an addict. Big pharma and the doctor are making money off killing people it made me sick to think of it.
The next day we were back to talking basketball at lunch, the new software we had to learn, and then something else again. No one else OD'd so the conversation was not repeated. It was not quite forgotten, but we had other things to talk about and busy lives.
My busy life centered around my wife Sue (nee Simmons) and my three kids, John Junior (JJ), Kristie, and Becky. We might not be poster children for the American dream, but we were trying. I worked at the plant and made a good wage; I also coached my son's baseball team. Sue worked at the bank part-time and was a great full-time mom. Kristie and Becky were busy little girls in grade 1. We were middle class and that was a big thing.
Growing up Sue and I were neighbors. We grew up in a neighborhood right on the edge of poverty. Our parents were obsessed about it, hers more than mine but it was all about doing "better." The Deacons and Simmons worked hard and wanted their kids to do better, as in going to university and making mega bucks. They wanted us to leave the edges of the middle class, no more one paycheck away from disaster.
After high school when I was hired at the plant my parents were happy, it was a good job with benefits. They wanted more for me but were happy that I was going to be secure.
The Simmons were not happy that Sue wanted to get married after high school. It wasn't me that was the problem it was what they saw as the inevitable hand-to-mouth existence that Sue was in for. They wanted her to marry the plant manager not the lowest guy on the totem pole. It didn't matter that she had a good job at the bank, and we were able to buy a house just before our first child was born. They were very unhappy, and I was to blame.
After JJ was born they lightened up a little because they wanted to see their grandson. Getting their daughter pregnant was just another nail in the poverty coffin to them but they separated that in their minds from the child. It made for an awkward relationship, and we ended up spending more time with my parents than Sues. You would think that my promotion to supervisor would have made Sue's parents happy, but it didn't. It didn't matter to Sue and me though. We were happy, we had three great kids, enough money for our needs, and even an emergency fund. We were not living paycheck to paycheck! We were living our version of the American dream.
Then tragedy struck the Deacon family. The bank Sue worked at was undergoing some renovations. One of the carpenters went to lunch without cleaning up his mess and Sue slipped wrenching her back. The doctor prescribed her painkillers to relieve the pain and physiotherapy to restore function. The prescription was for Oxycontin. If I had known I would have asked Sue not to fill it and ask for a different prescription, but I was too late by the time the kids and I arrived at the hospital to pick her up she already had taken one.
Sue was in serious pain despite the oxy and we all tried our best in the following weeks to make her as comfortable as possible. I took on more responsibility at home and my mom helped out. Sue's mom always seemed to be busy when I asked for help, so I stopped asking. The physio seemed to be working, and Sue was getting better. I was really happy when they reduced the amount of oxy in her next prescription. Sue wanted me to stop worrying,
"John if you take the oxycontin for a short period of time it's not addicting. I'm feeling much better and after this prescription, I will be done with it. The physio is working and soon I'll be back to 100%."
I admired her positive attitude.
"Sue I'm so glad that you are getting better. I just worry, another guy at work OD'd last week and although he didn't die, it's scary. I don't want to lose you."
It seemed like everything was fine, I was worrying for nothing. Then came Halloween. Since I was working Sue took the girls out for trick or treating while JJ handed out candy. Sue didn't want to worry me, but she slipped on some oil on a driveway and again wrenched her back. It had been months since she had stopped taking the oxy but now the pain was back with a vengeance.
We dipped into our emergency fund to get her more physio. Sue wanted her doctor to write her a prescription for oxycontin again, but I didn't want her to. She was in too much pain though, so I gave in. Sue seemed to be getting better and by Christmas was done her prescription. Then things started to change with Sue.
First, she became forgetful. There were also some other behavioral changes. When I asked her about it she said it was nothing. I never should have accepted that but to my shame I did. Life just has a way of keeping you busy and you miss things. I trusted Sue completely and that trust made me miss things. After we talked Sue seemed to get better. I had to go away for a week for work. It was critical to my promotion. I didn't want to go, but Sue convinced me all was well.
"Look John my back is getting better, and you need to go on this course. Then you will be a manager with your own office. You've worked so hard for this, then we'll be set. Even my parents will be happy."
I'm sure she said the last thing sarcastically, I don't think her parents will ever be happy with me. It did make me laugh, it's pretty amazing when your wife cracks jokes about her own parents. It has to make you smile. I pushed my worries aside and went off to the airport on Sunday afternoon.
The course was challenging, and they kept us busy all day and into the night. I called home every night around supper time to talk with Sue and the kids. Everyone seemed good and the week rolled on. Then on Thursday night around 9 pm I received a text from Tyson from work.
John how's the course?
It's good, this is a surprise.
Ya, I am surprised too, when did Sue start working at Brook's Bar?
What? she works at the bank.
Tonight, she is waiting tables at Brooks and Steve is paying her a lot of attention.
What! I'll call her.
I don't think she will pick up, no way there is room for a phone in what she's wearing.
He sent me a picture. Sue was dressed like some kind of slutty waitress. Short skirt, deep cleavage, and heels. I was stunned.
Thanks Tyson can you keep an eye on her?
Sure bud, keep you posted.
