There’s a pain in my chest, my jaw, and my head all the time. I hate to be a baby about it, but I also don’t like downing drugs like candy. I tried Tramadol. I hate Tramadol. It gave me a migraine so bad I couldn’t do a thing. I gave it a second chance. It was just as bad. So out the door it goes.

It was back to Tylenol and ibuprofen with some Benadryl at night to fall asleep. 

Before this all came down, I had been collecting history for my dad’s side of the family. It was simple to family history with Ancestry.com, the current history not so much. Seems like they don’t mind not knowing who their cousins are or what they look like. Maybe we have too many.

Uncle Ed and Alice’s son, Jon, texted a suggestion about my next book. It had to do with Depression Era recipes. Seems like before the Industrial Food Revolution, when high fructose corn syrup and preservative/sugar-filled ready-to-eat foods became the norm, people ate some really strange things. My family included. Many times family dinners included “fear factor” type dishes like pickled pig feet or liverwurst. We always compared and shared recipes. It was amazing to learn that even my double cousins did things differently than my mother. 

I laughed at Jon. It was a good idea. I said my 50s Jell-O molds were always a hit at holiday dinners. Not that anyone ate those molds, but they always laughed at how they looked. 

The next morning, it hit me. Jon lives in Denver, Denver has edibles, edibles numb the pain. Although I did not pursue a “green” card for medicinal marijuana, I thought, “Why should anyone deny a suffering old lady a few moments of peace each day?”

That revelation set off strange series of events, including talking to the doctors and their nurses about the possibility of using herbs instead of pharmaceuticals to ease my pain.

No one seemed to promote it. No one seemed to oppose it. It was up to me. 

So, I contacted Jon and asked when he was coming to North Dakota. An avid fisherman, Jon spent time with his dad at the cabin at Beaver Bay. I remember the cabin. We had a pig roast and many other parties with homemade sausage and beer on the lake.

Three or four weeks? He wanted to be sure that winter was over before traveling north. That seemed like a long time to wait for some relief. I’m sure it was because spring had yet to spring up here despite it being the end of March. The temps never hit 40 degrees all month. And talk about gray. It was one blizzard after another in early 2023.

However, some northerners travel south to escape the long winters. It just so happened the very next day my niece and her husband were posting photos of Colorado Springs on Facebook. They were in Colorado. Before saying anything, I slept on it. 

Duh. Perhaps she could bring me some relief. I asked Jon what the best product would be, and he suggested they stop by his house that happened to be about 40 miles from where they were staying. It was also on the road home. Whoa.

They agreed to meet. Now, the only thing I had to do was get my drugs from Jamestown to Bismarck. Then my son called.

His daughter had a dance competition in Wahpeton. Afterwards they were heading to Fargo to stay with his wife’s sister’s family overnight. That meant they would be coming through Jamestown on Sunday. What?

I explained the situation.

“Can you stop at Uncle Curt’s on the way home?”

“Karley lives in Fargo.”

“Curt is babysitting his granddaughter, and they need to stop there and pick her up.”

“We can do that.” 

Great, because we can get to Bismarck on Sunday, one way or the other.

It worked. I hope no one gets in trouble for helping me out. I’m also thinking God has orchestrated this small relief for me by way of a caring family. One thing to be grateful for as the second week of torture begins tomorrow