Uh, hi! This is Ca- I mean Chuck Shurley, just- Chuck, sorry. [Indistinct fumbling noises] Leave a message after the beep and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks?
[He's quiet a moment before actually sharing something.]
The medication is making me nauseous.
[Hence the crackers. And after resting so much the past few days, he can't sleep anymore, so there's another reason, and he really wants the more mind-numbing effects of the alcohol that the pain meds aren't giving him.]
[He almost looks like he's going to be stubborn about it, but the flare or attitude disappears as fast as it came. He backs off and leans against the counter once more, answering the initial question.]
[But he does as he's asked, going to the freezer and handing Chuck a fudgesicle before starting on his crackers.]
[He takes it and immediately spins the wheelchair around once.]
Thanks, man.
But seriously- you don't have to be on them all the time, but you can't drink when they're kicked in.
Your statements are contradictory.
[If he doesn't have to be on them all the time then why can't he just stop?]
Don't plow through my booze as your pain medication. It's not exactly healthy.
[The pain's manageable on the medication. He just wants the other effects from the alcohol.]
If you need more pain relief, just up how much you're taking. [Licking the popsicle mildly.]
The medication is making me nauseous.
[Hence the crackers. And after resting so much the past few days, he can't sleep anymore, so there's another reason, and he really wants the more mind-numbing effects of the alcohol that the pain meds aren't giving him.]
...Okay.
So.
Cut down your dose by half a pill and next time you take them, you can have a little to drink?
How much?
[He's drifting back toward the liquor cabinet now.]
I'll make it. What do you want?
I'm capable of doing it.
Cas. You've helped me in and out of my wheelchair about, what, eighty times now? I just... come on, I know you can, but.
It doesn't matter.
Here. Trust me- it's all you'll need.