When speaking about Dad with some of my brothers, we reminisced about the period of our lives when Dad was higher than a kite on pain killers. I'd bet good money just about all of my and my brothers' friends have the most off the wall stories about the bizarre and maladjusted garbage Dad would say and do. However, this story isn't about any of that, this story is about how Dad took control when everything about life was completely out of control.
There were some really hard times leading up to Dad kicking the pain killer habit no one blamed him for having. The man was completely broken from his work accident and in constant, grueling pain. But the hard times weren't just saying and doing some mean and stupid stuff. I'll never forget the night our bishop and home teacher (a friend from church) intervened in the middle of the night.
My parents were yelling at each other—like crazy. I don't know what it was about, but all of a sudden, right there in the living room, my dad had a gun to my mom, and I was freaking out. And then next thing I know, Jack Eggington is at the house and talking with my parents. The next thing that happened was the bishop coming over to haul off all of our guns until Dad could figure things out, I think. Mom had taken charge, leading the intervention, getting help, and working through very serious problems. She amazed me.
I'm not sure the span between the gun incident and when Dad realized what was going on with him, but my brother, Joseph, said there was a 60-Minutes segment on the addictive nature of painkillers or something of that nature, and that's when Dad realized that was his reality. He needed to get off his pain meds as soon as possible. He was in pain still, and the bit of relief from the pain wasn't worth the cost of his sanity and the safety of everyone around him.
Dad didn't go to the doctor to get help, no. He went into the medicine cabinet, got those bottles out, and dumped their contents 100% into the toilet, and flushed them all. And never looked back.
I recall there being a few days where my mom wouldn't let us go into their room, and I was encouraged to "go have fun" with friends. They needed some quiet, so Dad could get through the withdrawals. It wasn't easy—he was sick and in incredible amounts of pain—but he did it. Cold turkey.
I don't know many people who are that brave.
There were some really hard times leading up to Dad kicking the pain killer habit no one blamed him for having. The man was completely broken from his work accident and in constant, grueling pain. But the hard times weren't just saying and doing some mean and stupid stuff. I'll never forget the night our bishop and home teacher (a friend from church) intervened in the middle of the night.
My parents were yelling at each other—like crazy. I don't know what it was about, but all of a sudden, right there in the living room, my dad had a gun to my mom, and I was freaking out. And then next thing I know, Jack Eggington is at the house and talking with my parents. The next thing that happened was the bishop coming over to haul off all of our guns until Dad could figure things out, I think. Mom had taken charge, leading the intervention, getting help, and working through very serious problems. She amazed me.
I'm not sure the span between the gun incident and when Dad realized what was going on with him, but my brother, Joseph, said there was a 60-Minutes segment on the addictive nature of painkillers or something of that nature, and that's when Dad realized that was his reality. He needed to get off his pain meds as soon as possible. He was in pain still, and the bit of relief from the pain wasn't worth the cost of his sanity and the safety of everyone around him.
Dad didn't go to the doctor to get help, no. He went into the medicine cabinet, got those bottles out, and dumped their contents 100% into the toilet, and flushed them all. And never looked back.
I recall there being a few days where my mom wouldn't let us go into their room, and I was encouraged to "go have fun" with friends. They needed some quiet, so Dad could get through the withdrawals. It wasn't easy—he was sick and in incredible amounts of pain—but he did it. Cold turkey.
I don't know many people who are that brave.
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