After the Cheering Stops by Cyndy Feasel & Mike Yorkey

Author:Cyndy Feasel & Mike Yorkey [Feasel, Cyndy & Yorkey, Mike]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
Published: 2016-10-02T00:00:00+00:00

UNFINISHED BUSINESS

Life was good in Rockwall, especially because Grant was developing a special father-son relationship with Sean.

Grant had bought dirt bikes—off-road motorcycles designed for rough terrain—for Sean and himself, and my husband loved taking his son out riding in the backcountry. Sean started riding at age six and learned to handle a small dirt bike quickly and loved the speed and thrill of catching air. Grant had grown up dirt biking in the Mojave Desert, so sharing this exciting recreational activity with his son was special. They enjoyed dirt biking so much that they went to motocross events, where they watched the professionals soar over massive jumps and kick up mud in the corners. Grant also taught Sean to fire a shotgun and fish for bass.

Although Grant’s focus was on Sean, he also paid attention to Sarah, who was just starting school. He was a good father to both kids.

Now that he was out of football, Grant wanted to take care of unfinished business: his crooked nose. Grant’s nose had been broken several times during his NFL career and was slightly tilted. His not-so-straight nose didn’t bother me, but I wasn’t looking at myself in the mirror like he was every morning. He also complained of sinus problems.

When he told me that he wanted to get his nose fixed, I told him to go for it. Grant sought out a plastic surgeon and underwent a rhinoplasty procedure. The nose-straightening operation was a success, and Grant came home from the outpatient surgical center with a prescription for Vicodin, the same painkiller he took on Sunday nights and Mondays when he was playing in the NFL.

I didn’t think anything of it at the time. Of course Grant would be taking Vicodin following surgery to straighten his nose. Vicodin was a popular painkiller, but I was unaware that this prescription medication contained an opiate called hydrocodone that causes feelings of euphoria by altering the way the brain perceives pain.

“Hey, can you get me a refill?” Grant asked a couple of weeks after his surgery.

I was the one who went to the drugstore to pick up prescriptions. “Do you really need a refill?” I asked. “What if you don’t need them?”

I had grown up in a family where we didn’t keep unused prescription medicine around the house. Once the injury was healed or the disease was over, we tossed leftover pills in the trash. We respected the power of these medicines.

“I’d just like to have them in case I need them,” Grant said. “And see if you can get one more refill out of this prescription.”

I wish his request had raised a red flag with me. Little did I know that starting with his nose surgery, Grant would always have a supply of prescription painkillers like Valium or Percocet on hand until the day he died. He needed something stronger than Advil, which Grant popped like breath mints from a supply he kept in his front pocket.

But Grant was doing something else to take the edge off—something I didn’t catch on to during his first eighteen months of retirement.

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