Mr. Giddypants

Friday morning you made me breakfast and we ate together. I love being able to start my day with a soft-boiled egg. It can fuel me until lunchtime, and you make those and my coffee just the way I like them, and better than I can. You said you had read that the shots you are giving yourself have side effects: muscle and joint pain. I asked you if you were in pain and if you still thought you wanted to go for a bike ride in the afternoon. You said yes.

Work was a grind. We had the 'staff' meeting, full of fun and games. Not really but at least not full of tedious tasks. The two retired principals who are leading us this year have a calming effect on the assistant principal who is a nut case. We have finally found an office manager who we won't blow out of the water. God knows I couldn't do that job. I suggested she keep a little candy dish full of Valium on the side of her desk that's right next to the assistant principal's office. "Here you are, MaryAnna: two for you, one for me". Ahhhhhhhhhh, peace in the office.........and less tension in meetings.

Two of my anger-management kids were at their worst, and I was planning a surprise New Year's celebration for the class. We had made hats, we had read little individual New Year's books, and we had baked cupcakes. But one child had a real problem. He ripped his papers in half and threw them on the floor. He crossed his arms and set his jaw. Then, as always, he started muttering things about how he hates this school and this class and how he never wants to come back. He picked up his chair as if to hit someone, and I had to go over and quietly and calmly said, "It's my job to keep everyone safe. If you do something to make our room not safe, I have to remove you and take you to the office. I will count down from five. If you are sitting in the chair, you can stay. If you aren't, I will have to take you to the office. Five." He sat. The other child had just been breaking rules all day. Angry, angry little boys whose lives are out of control and whose parents are always in a state of 'transition'. As I was hurrying to put chin straps on all the hats, several wiggly lines started darting across my field of vision. They were unmistakable, and there were more than I had ever seen before. A migraine was on its way. Oh no! I haven't had one in years, and I know how to beat these things. Change my focus, get caffeine, take something for it. Be proactive. Don't let it get a toe-hold.

I finished the day and ran to the vending machine in the office. I downed the Diet Coke while I listened to the first graders read their writing in Mrs. U's room. I begged out of Pilates, took some ibuprofen, finished next week's lesson plans, and headed for home. Arriving at about 3:15, I expected to see you there. Almost immediately, you sent me a text, "Pain got so bad I went to the doctor for pain meds." followed by "Got Vicodin and am going to a movie. Can't exercise with you. Be home around 6:00." I sent you the following messages:"Then you shouldn't be driving a car!" and "Do you have the van? My bicycle is in it." And never got a response from you.

I had entered the house through the back, had gotten into bed and pulled the shades. I looked like a sheet and felt worse. I closed my eyes, rested, then read my book and finally started talking on the phone, beginning with a call from Laura at 5:00. At 7:45 you were calling in. I hung up with Kathy and punched you in. "Can you come and pick me up? I'm at the Marina Theatres. They gave me two bottles of pills. I thought one said acetominophin and the other said Vicodin, so I took two of each. Then I realized they were both bottles of Vicodin. I don't think I should drive."

When we got home, you said you felt almost giddy. You were very happy, very pleasant. You were feeling no pain. You started talking about maybe having dinner with Dad once a week. Then I knew you'd had too many pain pills.