Being Productive

I guess it was hard to think about all the pills because during this time Bob was quite productive. He was working on getting his black belt and writing a script with his karate friend and writing partner.

They spent a lot of time together and Bob used his friends hyper personality as an excuse for taking a lot of Valium, besides saying his back felt better with it. I wasn't worried because I did believe it would be ok as I mentioned. Bob needed something to do after his flying was abruptly ended.

Bob had been teaching aerobatic flying until one of his students crashed the plane into high tension wires. It was a miracle that they did not burn to death. His dream of flying and teaching had come to a halt, so did the days of being pill free.
When he flew he never even took an aspirin. Now that was all over. The incident was quite a blow to him. It wasn't his fault, but of course he had to be investigated to make sure he wasn't drinking or using drugs. I felt sorry for him. It seemed that in his life, whatever could go wrong did. This was one example of something he loved going sour on him.

The student pilot flew the plane ran right into the high tension wires. When they hit the wires the plane started to turn upside down, Bob had also taught EMT emergency maneuver training and as miraculous as it was, he managed to turn the plane right side up, before landing on the back of a pickup truck.
He flew out of a small airport in Santa Paula, California which had no control tower.
It is very popular with celebrities and pilots who just love the older planes.

When they hit the wires of course they snapped and tore off one of the wings. also the fuel tank was leaking fuel. It happened so fast Bob said. The pilot in control was sitting in front of the plain and Bob as the instructor was sitting behind him in a Super Decathlon. The student pilot froze on the controls as was not even thinking when it happened.

Bob kept telling him to relax and let go of the stick, let go of the stick. Finally seconds before they hit the student did let go and Bob was able to regain control of the stick. If he hadn't they would have both died. Bob had to kick the door open from the back seat, his student was just frozen with fear.

The man who owned the truck was not a very happy man. Instead of trying to help Bob and his student out of the plane he was screaming at them and threatening them. Meanwhile sparks are flying all around the fuel that was leaking. Bob got his student to safety and then ran back to get the parachutes out of the plane.

That's the kind of man he was, at times just fearless. He wasn't afraid of dying, ever. In fact there were times when I thought to myself he put himself in places and courted it. He was fearless because he at times was sick and tired of being an alcholic. Tired of having to fight the demon who was always lying in wait to creep up on him when he least expected it.

Bob was taken to the hospital for observation, he came out with a slight concussion.
He called me from the hospital, his first words were, "Don't Worry". Of course that set my heart pounding. Bob had never called me like that, I knew something had happened. I was grateful that all he suffered was a slight concussion. I had always had a fear of him flying those little planes upside down and doing dives and stuff like that. We did not tell his father what had happened. The story made the front page of the papers in Santa Paula, but their local news never hit the LA Times. We did tell his daughter and his brother I think, but Bob didn't want to worry his Dad.

I never flew in his decathlon with him, because I was terrified that once he got me in it he would just do one little loop or something. We had our son to think about, and I wasn't comfortable having two of us up there in one plane.
What would happen to Matt if we weren't around to be there for him?

The examination at the hospital proved that Bob was absolutely clean and sober, but he still had to pay $1,000 to the man who owned the company to help with his insurance to cover the plane, which was totaled and the damage to the truck.

After that incident, I begged Bob to not teach flying anymore he told me he would think about it, but he didn't want to appear like he was afraid to fly after that. It was a lesson well learned. He was a great pilot, but as a teacher, you never knew what the skills of the other pilot were. He had placed his life in a stranger's hands and I almost lost him that day. I was so grateful he had dodged another bullet.

So Bob thought about it and didn't have too long to make a decision. There was some sort of divine intervention lurking on his horizon. He took a photographer up to do some aerial photography and a few days later he got a call from his boss. Someone in the area they were photographing called the FAA. They took down the number of the plane Bob was piloting and reported that someone that morning had been flying too low above their house. They said it was the call letters on Bob's plane. Only problem with that was that Bob did not go up until after 1pm that afternoon. The plane that was flying in the morning was not Bob.

In order to appease the homeowner, the FAA launched a full investigation and Bob had to hire an attorney. This court is not like other courts. It is run by the Federal Aviation Association. It was a hung court. From the moment they called him he never had a chance to prove his innocence. They had a pilot and any pilot would do to make this all go away.

Bob had all the phone records to prove that he was not even called to go in that morning until after 9, around the time the first plane was spotted flying to low.
The log that records what time a plane leaves the hanger proved he was not the pilot of the incident. It did not matter. They suspended his license for 6 months.

It was an outrage. The FAA was out for a body, any body to appease the neighborhood in which the incident took place. I never would have believed it was so corrupt unless we had lived through the experience. Bob was told to mail his pilots license into to the FAA. He never did. He told them he lost it. They knew he did not lose it, they also knew he was not the pilot flying the plane at fault. He was not fined for not turning in his license and they never replaced it as they said they would after the six months were up. Bob was right, he would have never gotten back his license had he mailed it in.

It was a sad time for him. He lost something that meant a lot to him, his ability to fly, to feel free, to teach others. So he started taking Karate with our son.

Years before Bob had studied another system. He really needed something to do everyday to feel productive. Our son was really happy to have his dad to look up to.
It gave them something that really bonded them. The only problem was that it was not good for Bob's body, he was getting hurt.
They went full out in their workouts and his body wasn't in the best shape when he started. He went in with a bad back and before he got his black belt five years later, he would also have two bad knees.

Another Rehab on the Horizon?

Of course there were so many signs pointing to the fact that Bob was losing control of his emotions and his pill intake. His temper was flaring all the time. He was irritable or just plain out there in his own world in his own head. When he was home he was sitting in our room smoking on the sofa, or when we were going out to dinner or a movie the first thing that would happen is, We would get in the car and of course he would ask for his pills, he had me keep them in my purse. He used his back as an excuse. It started out simple enough but by the time a year had gone by he would snap until I handed him his pills, then he would have me count them to see how many he had left. He was obsesessed with counting those damn pills. He was so afraid of running out.

He would say he couldn't stand to drive any place. Sitting was bad for his back, it caused him more pain. It was an endless chain of reasons why he was such an unhappy man. He was in Hell and I didn't get it. Imagine not being able to recognize addiction when it's looking you straight in the eye.

Another bout of denial on my part. I didn't want to face the truth. I wanted to believe the propaganda put out by the medical community. We watched a 60 minutes report on how people suffering from serious pain could not possible become addicted to the medication. What a lie. I even sent for a copy of the program to have on hand just to validate the fact that Bob needed 500 pills a month, I wanted to convice myself that there was no way he can get addicted, after all that was the reassuring message to families and victims of this pill abuse. If it was on 60 minutes, it had to be true. I will never forget that episode. an elderly womany lying on her sofa writhing in pain until she took her "Pills" then a bit later, WA LA, a miraculous transformation. From non=functional to fully functiional.
How comforting it was to know he would be safe, that our family would not be affected by his pain management as it was called. PROPAGANDA I also remember the cover of TIME or NEWSWEEK declaring that Cocaine wasn't addictive also.

That was the beginning of the Pain Management years.

We both wanted to believe the lies so desperately I was willing to put up with all the mood swings, after all, I made a promise to myself and Bob that I would stand by him as long as he didn't pick up a drink, it never changed, in my head he was Sober.
Crabby, but Sober. I was once again the oh so loyal enabler.

Dejavu A new Way

Pills, Pills and more Pills.

I can't blame Bob for getting so strung out on pills because I was involved from the beginning. Our local Malibu Family Doctor asked me how Bob's back was, and I told him even after surgery, he was still in a lot of pain. The physical therapist hurt him even further. Life in our house was miserable.

Our Doctor told me to make an appointment and send Bob into see him, I couldn't wait to tell him that our family doctor was actually going to step in and help him.
What he did was prescribe many many pills. Bob was given Vicodine, Valium, another pain pill and he was getting large amounts. He started out with maybe 100 of each which was supposed to last a month or something Bob was refilling his precsciptions every two weeks by the end of several months. He was also going to a doctor in town that I wasn't aware of in the beginning.

Then there was the Karate injuries which always lead to the emergency room for a demeral shot and more meds.
He was on a rollercoaster ride with addiction again and this time even I didn't realize how far gone he was.

Pill addiction is so socially acceptable, it's even more so when your doctor is giving them to you. Our world is full of addicts that don't even know what a problem they have. Got a little ache, here's some pain killers. I learned this from experience.

I was having problems with my sciatic nerve and went to a very reputable medical firm specializing in athletes with all sort of problems. After my test were taken and all the X-rays were read I was given a prescription for Vicoden. I was told to just call a refill number 24 hours in advance for as long as need for my refills. I didn't need to be seen again. That was that. If I hadn't been watching the amounts of pills Bob needed to take to help his pain, I probably would have been in the same boat as he was in.

No doctor told me that Vicodine is addictive, that I would start to develop a tolerance for it or that I would have to take more and more for the pain relieve to work. All I was told is that I had to take them every 6 hours so that they would not have time to wear off. Once the pain cycle starts up again, it's harder to control
it.

Until this day I regret speaking to our Family Doctor and after a year and a half of giving Bob more and more pills, he went to see him fresh out of his first rehab in 14 years and our doctor gave HIM a lecture on how he abused pills, taking absolutely no responsibility for giving him hundreds of pills a month. Imagine that.