BILL CADY Word Count: 149,227 - At My Friend's Place

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Bill Cady, The Early Years … by Bill Cady 217 treat my injuries. Then, after Dr. Pomeroy and I made our deal, they started me on those powerful antibiotics, which kept me wanting to barf for more than a week. When the infection miraculously cleared up, I started going in for surgery every Tuesday morning. That meant all the rest of every damned Tuesday was spent moaning in pain and demanding more Demerol shots. When the shots went from every two hours to every three, I continued using my call button after the two hours ended. On Tuesdays, it was exclusively based on need. The pain was always more than unbearable. Other days, it was 50% need and 50% “junkie wish”. Those shots got me stoned like a leper. It was wonderful, and the buzz was heavenly. When the shots got to every four hours apart, I still buzzed after two hours, and every ten to fifteen minutes until someone showed up with a needle. I was so hooked it wasn‟t even funny. The nurses truly were a crew of angels, and they all did everything they could for me. Against my wishes, that included purposely getting busy when my shot was actually due. That meant I got my shots fifteen or twenty minutes late. All done, I suppose, to help wean me away from Demerol. That makes as much sense as the way my fiancée, Cammie Shelton, tried to wean me away from sex. I guess she thought reducing my dosage to getting laid quarterly would make the need go away, but it was quite the opposite. Demerol works the same way. If I laid very quiet, didn‟t move a damned thing other than to use the remote on my TV or reach for a book, the pain in my leg would subside greatly. That way, when my shot showed up, I was free to enjoy it just as a high, and it was wonderful. Leviticus, Limited 33-0505963
Bill Cady, The Early Years … by Bill Cady 218 Hell, if I had a shot due at three in the morning, I‟d automatically awaken anywhere from two fifty-five to three oh five and press the button. That would start the waiting game, meaning I couldn‟t get stoned until three twenty to three thirty. I was later able to see how unfair I was to Mom, too, as far as all my rehab sessions. Of course, it was her job to get me there, to take care of me. She was my Mom. However, I acted as if it was her job, not a duty of love, and that was wrong on my end. Very wrong. I had whirlpool baths, walking exercises, stretching exercises, all kinds of goddamned exercises, and pain I can‟t even explain to you. Pain that would often leave me in tears of pure frustration. The first ninety days were spent at home, in bed, with the Meals On Wheels people bringing me something to eat every day. I smoked as many of my old man‟s Raleigh cigarettes as I could steal, then very cleverly dumped the butts out my window, into Mom‟s flower bed. How could they possibly have known I was smoking in bed at home? I was sure that David thing told „em, and it pissed me off. I never considered they might see that huge and growing pile in the ground, right outside my window. One of my “most wonderful” moments came a few days before my discharge. I hit the call button for my three pm shot, and Mrs. Skehan, the utterly adorable, foxy head nurse, was there in only a couple minutes. She even had a beaming smile on her face, increasing her uncanny beauty. I realized it would look bad, since I was a crippled teenager, I smoked, I was still in a hospital bed, needed a haircut badly, and she was already married, but I was still mentally composing a marriage request. That woman‟s beauty was purely astounding! Leviticus, Limited 33-0505963
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BILL CADY Word Count: 149,227 - At My Friend's Place

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