Initial Codeine, Breathing Deep / Slumber Made / People on the Path

A rotten streak of 18 consecutive days and nights has unceremoniously reached its end. Hooray for that. Now instead of debilitating awfulness, I am simply contending with a new roommate who snores louder than loud for periods no less than 12 hours at a time. But that's something I can contend with - I can handle that kind of action straight off. I'm used to plain simple intrusive noise.

So, for those recent 18 consecutive days, the primary complaint had much to do with pain related fallout. Most impactful was my inability to sleep at night. Or during the day. Nope. I slept, 3 hours at most, but generally less than that (my muscles and strength were surprisingly unaffected). And of course the pain was quite intolerable. But that's all behind me. Mostly. I've gone two days without, and here's what I did.

I took the codeine a second time. The first time I took it about a week ago I felt somewhat unwell after having done so. Yes, the pain dissipated, but I became rather nauseous and disoriented. But the second time I took it, I was fully on board. I was determined to make it work (after having been crying myself awake during the wee hours earlier). I also halved the dosage.

Being on board (with the codeine) meant that I went outside immediately after having taken my dosage, and did my best to simply mellow out. Luckily, being mindful under the influence of codeine is rather easy, at least for me. I couldn't come up with many thoughts at all to interfere with my attempts at relaxing my gut. I practiced deep breathing for 45 minutes consecutively, while staring at the wildflower yellow flowering weeds in desert bloom.

An hour later my intestinal movement, and intestinal gurgling miraculously returned. Yes, things started happening down around and beneath the belly button area. And then that evening I slept a total of 6 hours. And then the following night I slept 7 hours total. And my pain has been minimal and manageable as I've continued on this deep breathing track. My oxygenated intestines are flowing a lot better in this present moment.

And these recent couple of weeks (and in the fit of desperation) I've dabbled with the TENS unit. And having tested it out for five short minutes, I became effectively exhausted. My muscles died. Head to toe. And I had to take a nap for 15 minutes after having used the device.

B1 and magnesium have also been on the agenda (in small amounts).

The Cold Dark

I'm up and awake now at 4:00 in the morning, but it's not so bad. I need to practice my breathing practice. And perhaps things will improve at this juncture.

Another Eric and Wrong Gary

You stop me on the bike trail earlier last evening. He wanted to chat. And it turns out, he lives adjacent in a cross from one of the local parks. And I previously had a conversation with his wife, briefly. She was highly involved in Christmas decorations a few months back. In any case, I had a nice conversation with this 64-year-old male who was riding his battery powered mountain bike up the hill.

Then there was Gary a few days earlier. But, he wasn't paul. I thought he was paul. I thought he was the piano guy, the musical composer, but he was the pilot from American Airlines. He's the one who pilots the red eyes from coast to coast. And he also rides his bike up and down the trail, frequently waiting to me. But I screwed up in a major way, and I talked to him as though he were the musician guy, not the pilot guy. And this led to a confusing conversation, at least from my end. But also likely, from his perspective.

Then there's Homeless Todd, and his schizophrenic girlfriend Daphne. Todd keeps telling me that he enjoys the heat. That he can go weeks without drinking water. During the summer. In the desert heat. And mostly he's ambling around night and day trying to protect his girlfriend. She's led a life of being abused. Todd claims that he's rescued her from abusers and other foul situations time and time again. It's not a good scene overall, but Todd seems okay with himself. And the rest of the gang seems to respect him.

Typically there are five of them camped out just north of the pedestrian overpass. They also work the freeway exits with their cardboard signs. Food stamps keep them going.

New Room(mate)

I was going to go deep into this, detailing my all new adventures living back in Loud Unit Number 2. I even wrote about the whole transition, my movement over here and my adapting to my new roommate. But it turned out to be way too long, and totally overwritten. So instead I shall use scant words, saving your cellular integrity. Or something like that.

Ummm… he's horribly depressed. He doesn't want to live any longer. And of course, I am coaching him the best I can. He's got severe neuropathy. And he's probably younger than me. He had a bad covid-19 reaction. And then a subsequent person infection. And other such things.

But at least he sleeps, and he doesn't watch any type of television or do much of anything else besides lay in bed. Although they do come into the room at all hours, in order to change his diaper. And in order to do so, they turn on all the lights and have very loud conversations for 10 minutes at a time. Of course, I awaken along with them.

Every few days he'll get into his power chair and ride around the interior of the building. He's not a very good driver. Bad things happen at nearly every turn. He nearly flipped his chair the first day he entered the room, having nearly rolled on top of the bed somehow, having accessed his four wheel drive mechanism.


They seem to like me over here, the whole lot of them. Mostly they're curious though. They wonder how a guy in his 30s ended up in a nursing home. Of course, I tell them I'm in my fifties. And that only confuses matters. They wonder out loud about my broken body. They wonder what the heck is wrong with me. And then they also take pictures of me, to show their girlfriends, or husbands, or the guy behind the counter over at Circle K. It seems my youthful appearance is anomalous.

But really, I believe it's simply the way I carry myself. I don't act like an old person. My movements are dissimilar to the movements made by older folks. And my voice still sounds rather youthful. Nearly identical to the way it sounded back when I was 21 years old. Plus I am vitally enthused. I'm happy to be alive. I'm happy to be anywhere.

Stopping Point

I shall attempt to sleep once again. I have a 4-hour pass to go to the park today. Of course, they haven't responded to my request to do so, but I'm going anyway. And beneficially, it's going to drop down into the upper 70s today, after having been around 100° for a couple of days.

And then on Friday, I'm going downtown to get my wheelchair repaired. I will also be going to the Phoenix Art Museum. Well, at least, that's the plan.

Take care,





@Howard...greetings from Rufous

Codeine- that seems very old school. But so glad to hear it helped.

I recall, in high school, having a very bad cough, and I was at work coughing away, holding down the entire back end of the store on Sunday. Back then, they operated with cash. I was also guarding that cash.

Only I had too many shots of that cough syrup. Gotta watch that nausea part. (and possibly passing out later, which happened).
The breathing exercises seemed to work wonders. I love it when something actually helps. I think I'll give it a go and try it out myself.

Thanks for sharing your mingles on the path.

Hey, if you do end up getting to go to the Art Museum can you take some pictures? Would love to see some Museum art pieces. Enjoy!

What happened to the wheelchair?
Last edited:
Hey, if you do end up getting to go to the Art Museum can you take some pictures? Would love to see some Museum art pieces.

I did and I shall! Hopefully soon - :)



the chair has moving parts...and must have periodic attention and maintenance!

Yes, this is basically it. New headrest and new casters (4 new small wheels). I put a lot of wear on my chair, riding several miles per day (altogether) down the bumpy path and slightly off-road.

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