Letters to the Editor
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That kid riles me...
As someone with horrendous back pain myself, if I knew of anything that would turn it down by even 50% without making a zombie of me, something I could obtain in a reasonably convenient way and afford, I'd be using that something. Any self-righteous, mouthy adolescent who got in my way about it would very soon find himself regretting his choices, possibly from boarding school on the opposite coast. Or maybe he'd be perfectly content in a distant boarding school, where he wouldn't be exposed to Mom's habit and could pontificate to his heart's content.
As a person with a recalcitrant chronic pain problem, my sympathy for this kid is right down there between slim and none. If I were his "aunt," I'd tell him to use the next time he gets a bad sprain as a learning experience: he should imagine what it would be like to have that pain day in and day out, year in and year out, and to regard a night of decent sleep as a piece of golden good luck. Also, Auntie should remind him of the likely consequences of ratting Mom out to the police: probably being put into a foster home, where no one will give a flip about any of his fine opinions, and he will get to spend his extra energy fighting off the sexual advances of some older, stronger foster boy.
Unfortunately, I don't know of anything that helps back pain without making a zombie of me except exercise, and that only to a modest extent and not always. The one time I smoked pot, all it did to me was make me sleepy. But that's not true for everyone. It makes some people feel a lot better. That lady may have chosen it for that reason over the "legitimate options," narcotics and muscle relaxants, which are intensely sedating for some people. And that kid hasn't seen a zombie until he's seen someone strung out on Vicodin and Flexaril. Let him count his blessings, button his lip, and mind his business.