According to Forbes, Much of the American South is ailing, with West Virginia the worst off–at least, if the rate of prescription drug use is any indication. The state filled 17.7 prescriptions per capita compared to a national average of 11.5, according to Verispan, a health care information company.
“The growth in prescription drug use,” says Barlow, is driven in part by “chronic diseases that are largely preventable and are linked to lifestyle and physical activity.”
I don’t disagree with the statement by Dr. Barlow. However, those are not the only reasons that West Virginians are taking more drugs than the national average. She neglected to mention that psych drugs and pain killers are handed out around here like candy on Halloween. It has become a source of extra income for many “disabled” people. You know who I’m referring to….not people who really have a disability. NOOOOO! This area is flooded with people who have become” injured and unable to work”.
Before I moved to My Boogerwoods Home, I had actual people neighbors…not just squirrels, deers, foxes, bears, etc. In 1 out of 3 homes, there dwelled people who had been declared unable/unfit to work. Although, at any given day, you could look outside and see them mowing their yards, riding their 4-wheelers, building another tacky shed, riding horses, and who knows what else. Many of those people sold their prescription drugs on the street. I’m not making this up. It’s a fact.
There is one psych doctor in town who has a large parking lot. That lot is always full of cars….and people. I use to wonder why people were always standing around or sitting in their cars on that lot when I’d pass by. I figured it was the ol’ “take your whole family to your appt.” thing since that’s a cheap form of entertainment around here. That’s a fact, too. Lacie (I know, I know, I keep bringing her up but she such a good example of what’s wrong) use to go to the ER on a regular basis on weekend nights. She would recount stories of all these different people by names. When I’d ask her how she know so-and-so, she would state, “Oh, I met them at the ER last Friday night”. Apparently, the ER had become a social gathering spot for unemployed and unable to work people who have no conscience about abusing the money that we (taxpayers) have to fork over to the government every year. Just yesterday evening, I was going to a yoga class that was being held behind the ER at this hospital. I was awe-struck at the number of people dressed in hospital gowns that were sitting outside on some benches having a cigarette. Lord have mercy! If those people felt like going outside, lighting up, and having a talkfest, then what the hell were they doing at the emergency room? When I think of the ER, I think of car wrecks, heart attacks, broken necks, blood, vomit, blood, vomit, etc. No wonder our taxes are so friggin’ much!!!!!
Anyway, back to the psych doc’s set-up. One day, I was talking to my crazy sister-in-law (who goes to that psych doc) and she said that people sell/buy/trade their prescriptions/drugs right on the lot. Seems like it’s a lucrative business.
Once, I was in line at a pharmacy to get a prescription filled. There was a man who looked like he was in his early 20′s standing right behind me. Fit as a fiddle, as they say. He had muscles with tattoos all over him. And, he was a chatty one, for sure. He informed me that if I ever wanted some “oxy” (Oxycontin), all I need do was tell the doctor that my back hurt and I was allergic to anything else. I guess that’s good to know if I ever want to develop a hydrocodone/Oxycontin habit. I’ll lock that little gem away for future reference, I guess.
I shouldn’t be talking bad about those people because I am in the need of drugs right now. Living with TPKen is going to result in me being locked away in a padded room. Yep, he’s been up to his ol’ hair-raising antics again! His driving is turning totally into a thrill ride. I never know exactly when or how but I do know that at some point while riding with him, I am going to be scared shitless.
Or, as in the case this past weekend, EMBARRASSED.
Friday night, we went over to TrailerparkMidge’s house where we had an absolutely delicious meal of grilled fillet mignons and veggies. Then, we sat around on the back deck and chatted for a long time. I let the time get away from me and before I knew it, it was dark outside. Holy crappola! I immediately became panicky because riding with TPK after dark is like standing next to a vampire’s coffin at dusk. You know you’re gonna get fanged and you can’t stop the night’s darkness! Plus, you don’t have garlic, silver, or a stake on you at the moment.
OK…The vampire reference was for a very selfish reason. I just wanted to post this picture of Eric Northman, the sexy vampire on True Blood. Now, I’ll take a few minutes and drool…….
I want me some of that Eric.
I began to immediately urge TPK to go home. But, I realized with a sick feeling in my stomach, that it was already tooooo late! The sun had set and the sky was dark!. I felt like I was going to piss my pants right then and there. Or, puke. Or, call for a police escort. Or, beg to stay the night with TPMidge.
But, instead I gathered up my courage and pushed TPK out the door. I strapped myself in and readied myself for some excitement. And, that wasn’t long in coming, either. TPK was backing out of the driveway. And, he back out…and back out some more….even though it was not an abnormally long driveway. TPK’s pimpmobile (gigantic hulkin’ Tahoe) has a backup beeper system…and it started going off. And, he kept backing…and you know where this is going, don’tcha? Yep…when he hit something, I was afraid to even look and see what it was. Silently praying that it was not a car, or, God forbid, a person, I finally snuck a look at the side mirror. And, what I saw was people rushing out of their homes to see what the hell had happened. TPMidge liveBs in a very nice neighborhood and has some locally prominent people as neighbors. I saw Judge B*****de and his lovely companion (she owns a very busy beauty shop in town) running out to view the damage. What TPKen had hit was one of those big, Rubbermaid mailboxes….like this….
Of course, it was cemented into the ground. After he hit it, it looked like this…only green….
I slunked down in my seat hoping not to be seen by any of the people. I mean, seriously…..I didn’t want to take a chance that one day I’d have to stand before The Judge for some reason and have him recognize me as the woman in the car driven by the crazy driver. TPMidge opened my door and said, “Don’t you want to get out and look?” I just said, “Shut the damn door before anyone sees me!” She said, “Don’t you think they will recognize this SUV when you come back here?” And, I said, “Look, sweetie, do you really think that I’m stupid enough to show up here again in this car? Hell, no! I’ll be driving my own little car and no one will recognize me or my car! Now, shut the friggin’ door so the dome light will go out!”
Almost before I could get those words out, there was a familiar face at the window saying, “Are you alright?” Well, damn Sam…it was my friggin’ doctor!!!! Well, ex-doctor…except she didn’t know that she was my “ex” just yet. I’d been cheating on her by going to see another doctor that I found more reliable. My “ex” had a habit of calling in the wrong prescription strenght’s or leaving town before she even called in the prescriptions. Hey, I told ya a few paragraphs up that I need medicated from time to time. Now, let me just say here that my “ex” is absolutely drop-dead gorgeous. Stunning figure, long blonde hair, and intense blue ees. She should be on one of those stupid commericals for eye drops …you know the one where both of those women sound like they are reading straight off of a cue card. But, I’m not going to pay a doctor to look good, Hell no! My current doctor is about 5 feet tall and weighs a good 250 lbs. But, she’s reliable and a good doctor. She always hands over my Valium and muscle relaxors as soon as I request them. Now, that’s a good physician. But, I digress….as soon as I saw that silky, shiny hair, cute button nose, and pouty lips attached to my “ex” doctor, I slunk all the way down to the floorboard. In a husky, mannish voice (or at least that was how I was trying to disguise my own voice), I said, “No, thanks. I’m just allergic to…….grass.” Grass? It was the only thing that came to mind at the time. Well, actually, “flashlights” came to mind but who would believe that anyone is allergic to flashlights?
Finally, after what seemed like hours, TPKen got back in the pimpmobile and we left. Oh, yeah, that mailbox episode is costing about $1400.00. Glad we have insurance but we do have a 500 dollar deductible! TPKen’s tank only suffered some broken glass on a tail light so I don’t know how insurance or the body shop arrived at that figure. Which brings me to the next TPKen incident ….
After trying and failing to talk TPK into postponing forking out 500 bucks of hard earned cash for a friggin’ tail light, I was pretty pissed off about the whole thing. I swear, y’all, sometimes TPK is like having a retarded child. Yes, I know that “retarded” is not PC but it’s my blog…not the PC police’s. And, it would be unfair to mentally challenged children to compare them to TPK’s lack of common sense and inability to grasp simple words and/or phrases…such as, “Don’t be an idiot! You’re gonna hit something again (probably in the near future) and you should wait and fork over the 500 bucks then.” Of course, he didn’t hear me…which is his way of saying that he doesn’t listen worth shit.
So, being already pissed off, I was not a happy camper when he informed me that he was going to go to my yoga class. Now, this was my first yoga class. I use to do yoga to a DVD but the guy on the video wore a ding-sling (a small piece of cloth in his crotch area) and I couldn’t concentrate on The Downward Dog. And Wagging the Dog (a yoga pose) took on a whole new meaning while watching that ding-sling enrobed man. I had to quit. Now, every time I hear “yoga”, I automatically think, “ding-sling”.
I didn’t want TPK going with me. I was pissed. Besides that, he was going to wear his hardtoe work boots and jeans. I’ve already told y’all that he runs like a penguin and I couldn’t begin to imagine his “penguin yoga”. Sheesh…I had already been embarrassed by his mailbox accident. Did I really deserve to have him tag along and sit and watch us doing yoga? Yep, sit and watch was what he had planned. Since I felt like I had been subjected to enough humiliation, I informed him that we would take separate cars. I explained to him that he would probably get bored and want to leave. Actually, I had already formed a devious plan in my mind. I gave him some half-assed general directions to the place and then I took off in a mad dash to my car. Usually, I am much faster than TPK. But, for some odd reason, he was fairly quick on his feet this time. Uh oh…I’d better put my plan into overdrive. Now, as I’ve told y’all before, TPK not only drives crazy but he drives S-L-O-W. I figured I had a good chance of losing him and he wouldn’t be able to find the yoga place.
Gravel flew out behind me as I sped away from my house. Aha! TPK drives especially sloooooow on the gravel road. He thinks he might damage his car. How ironic, huh? I pulled onto the main road driving quite a bit faster than normal. All the while, I was checking my rear view mirror to make sure that he was not catching up. I ran a couple of yellow lights which is something that I am normally very careful to not do. I began to chuckle to myself and was feeling somewhat less pissed off. I pulled into the parking lot (which is the one of the ER that I mentioned above), all the while congratulating myself on my driving skills. NASCAR…here I come. You could have knocked me over with a feather when I pulled into a parking spot only to see TPK emerging from his Tahoe. WTF? Seriously….how the hell did that happen? And, I sure wasn’t about to ask him how he got there so fast. Honestly, I’m still at a lost on! the explanation! So, I went to my first yoga class with my retarded son/husband in tow. He sat in a chair right behind me and watched the whole damn hour! So, not only did I spend the whole hour worrying about letting a fart in the direction of the instructor who was a mere 4 ft in front of me, I was very aware of TPK sitting there like a judge at the Olympics.
At least, the instructor wasn’t wearing a little ding-sling. After the class, I stayed behind to talk to my friend who had met me there. When I got home, TPK said, “I hate to tell ya this but I don’t think I’m going there anymore.” The look on his face showed that he expected me to be disappointed for some reason. But, in reality, it was the first time that I had smiled in over a week.