I've never been an advocate for prescription drug dependency. I have never understood it. I always figured that it was for drug addicts, junkies, and morons. It's an easy addiction to hide at first, until you see the glazed look in one's eyes and their rotting complexion. It has always caused me to look down upon it, or ignore it like an invoice from Columbia House.

Then my precious little pug dog Bella came into my life. Don't worry, Bella has no addictions, her drug is her Daddy, who loves her so much, that on cold days, he carries her out to her pen to go poop, which means less time for her precious little paws to get chilly, and more time to produce the bona fide Bella bomb pug custard.

It's funny, Christmastime is when all the bad karma I exude during the year comes to collect its debt with me, and this year, it didn't. It just went away, like an invoice from Columbia House. I felt that I had accomplished a full year of good karma, but I was wrong. The New Year brought on a new me, in a bad way.

January 4th started out like any other day. I awoke, threw my robe on, and some slippers, grabbed my baby Bella, and headed outside. Something I guess I never realized was that slippers have no tread. I also didn't realizing that having tread is a good thing to have during slippery conditions. I always tend to overlook this menial stuff, like an invoice from Columbia House.

I headed down the steps with Bella on my arm, and moments later, found myself in the emergency trauma unit with a compression fracture to one of my vertebrae, along with a friendly little muscle strain. I royally screwed up my back, in other words.

This accident has introduced me to something I had never met: chronic pain. My definition of chronic pain is an inability to sit, sleep, or suppress my urge to kill. The only way to go to war with my own physical demons was to fire a warhead straight at the soul of it-a scud missile to the central nervous system, a weapon so powerful that it destroys pain and lives-Oxycodone.

I've found a pill here that takes a little pain away and turns me into a helpless moron, but it's the only thing I can do. I sleep about three hours a night, and fusing that with a disposition such as mine, medication is the only answer to prevent a bloodbath.

The agony that I have been in is the single most humbling event that has ever occurred to me, and I am changed because of it. I pray that I'll wake up normally as I used to, I pray that I don't have to take pills to feel quasi-normal. But until then, I can only pray.

I can't seem to find a way to spin this into comedy just yet, maybe it's the dope flowing through me. I wish I could. Perhaps next month I can write about it with more funny, but until then, I can only pray. Life is quite a bit different for me now, and getting this dope out of my life and having a straight back again is all I can wish for, along with a BMG music application. .