Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Zardoz Commands you to KILL



I was using heroin for about a year before I had to tell anyone about it. I had a couple friends that knew something was up and I am sure my co-workers knew..but maybe not. I had also been hiding it from my live in boyfriend as well. It was a year after we moved in together that he found out. It doesn't really matter how he found out, but he did.

In my world when someone finds out about your drug adduction or already knows, they aren't usually going to be supportive because obviously, heroin is bad. So, I always had to start promising that I would get clean, that I wanted to get clean and all that. Going into treatment was not something I was considering, but I did not want to be dope sick every morning any more and I was in a place where my addiction was totally unmanageable. I had a job and all this other stuff to worry about and also didn't really know anything ABOUT detox/treatment (my sister had been to a few treatment centres for alcoholism but that is all I had been exposed to at that time). My first instinct when I was finally faced with admitting my addiction to heroin was to go on the methadone program. I had asked my friendly neighborhood dope seller what I should do and he suggested it. I had no idea how to even get on the program so I went to this place that was called "Commercial Heath Centre" (I include the name because they are fabulous and I love them).

The first time I went there it was closed for lunch. I was like, "what??". I mean, how can they close for lunch? If someone is an addict, their desire to get clean comes on quickly and then disappears even quicker. They may want help one minute and then the next, not at all. So, I was pretty put off by the closed for lunch sign.

The next day I called there and this guy Ron answered the phone. Ron, I love you. Ron, was amazing, I mean, he used to be an addict..like a "f*ck this, f*ck the world addict" - you know, the kind that every junkie can relate to*. I asked him how I could get on the program and he asked me, had I ever been to detox. I said no. He then informed me that I would be denied methadone until I had at least tried to detox since methadone is looked on as a last resort. He told me to go to a clinic and ask the doctor for something called "Clonidine", which was to help me with my heart rate, as detoxing makes your heart beat super fast. So, I did this. I took 5 days off of work and planned to detox at home. Of course, I had never even tried to kick before so I naively thought 5 days was enough.

I went to a walk in clinic and the doc was a total prick. I had seen this doctor once before when I went to him for the morning after pill and he wouldn't give it to me because it was against his religious beliefs. So, naturally, this is the doctor working when I go there in desperation, seeking help for my addiction. Ron had also told me to ask for Valium because sometimes doctors will give you that too. I told the doctor I was a heroin addict, that I needed help and could I get a 'script for Clonidine and Valium. No way, he says. His saying no to the Valium I sort of get, EXCEPT the thing was that I knew he wouldn't give me a 'script for the Vs BECAUSE I was an addict and he thought I was going to misuse them. I wasn't planning on it, I was really just trying to get clean. But, like most doctors that haven't been specially trained to deal with addicts he was an assh*le and treated me like I was garbage. I got the prescription for Clonidine and went and got it filled.

Up until this point I was very nervous, but still had faith in myself and the medical system. When I picked up the meds a few moments later, I was very put off by the fact that the Clonidine was only cost me thirteen (thats 13) dollars . If you know anything about pills, you know that the more expensive a medication is, the more powerful it is, etc. $13 didn't make me feel very much better about the journey I was about to embark on but still, I went ahead with my plan.

I went home to my apartment with no dope on me. My boyfriend searched my bag and found nothing. He totally did not trust me, for obvious reasons, number one being that I had been lying to him for a year about using heroin. I had also lied about what I did with my money, even going so far as to filing a false police report saying I had my wallet stolen when in actuality I had spent our $700 in rent money on drugs debts and drugs. I showed him where I kept my dope and he saw it was empty. As a user you find various ingenious ways to conceal your "stash". Personally I had what appeared to be a dental floss container that I could just click open and inside it I had my flap, my straw and a folded up piece of tinfoil (I was not shooting up then, though I had done it before). He searched everything in my bag and even searched the house and found nothing (he went so far as to open everyone of my CD cases to see if I had hidden some there). Now when I think back I think, "why the f*ck DIDN'T I hide something?". I didn't because I was going to try my best.

I used my last bit that day, a Friday, before I got home and had nothing after about 5 o'clock. I fell into a sort of sleep. We had been up late because I was nervous and because we were watching movies. My ex had rented about 10 movies for me for the next few days to help me pass the time. This was the first time I watched Zardoz, and it ruled, by the way.

By the next morning the sickness was in full effect. We had already planned to get a bunch of weed to at least try to minimize my pain and anxiety on top of the Clonidine I had gotten. The weed seller wasn't going to be around until 5 though and so it was a loooooong day until then. I couldn't eat, could not pass time by sleeping, no rest at all (and actually, I have heard that some people could sleep each night until about 2 days into their detox off of heroin, but not me. I couldn't sleep as soon as I knew I was even going to try to kick). He tried to make me eat. He brilliantly gave me "Spirulina" mixed with yogurt and it made me puke. If you don't know what "Spirulina" is I am sure you can Google it and find out. It still makes me shudder when I think of it, but it also makes me laugh too because he tried it after I did and almost barfed. It was like the worst thing you could give to someone that is having a hard time eating.

Finally came the time to get the weed. He had to go somewhere in Chinatown and suggested I stayed home. I volunteered to go with him though, and told him I would try to score some Valium at Main and Hastings while he was getting the weed. I had had an ex bf that was an addict, years ago, and he told me that you can get anything there. It is an area known for drugs and all that. I was so naive though, it isn't like someone is always there selling pills. It is basically "rock (crack), down (heroin), and powder (cocaine)" that is sold there. I knew this deep down, that I most likely would not find any Vs but was also super desperate at this point (keep in mind I am not even 24 hrs into my detox yet). I had another ulterior motive. I had a stash of 10 loonies (one dollar coins) in my backpack that I had found night before. So while my bf was getting the weed, I was going to try to score Valium as well as down. Ten bucks won't buy you much but I was hurting bad.

He goes to get the weed and I go to score. I had to be quick because if he came back and saw me getting heroin he would spazz and probably knock me around for a bit once we got home, plus I had to ingest it before he came back. I had limited time. So, first I made my feeble attempt at acquiring the heroin. If you have ever tried to infiltrate an area like this you can imagine what I went through. These people can spot a mark from a mile away. I was so friggen paranoid that I was going to get busted by cops and my bf that the first person that mouthed the word "DOWN" to me, I went over to. I gave him the money and he gave me something that looked like crushed drywall. No matter, I snorted it anyways and it did nothing to alleviate my withdrawal symptoms.

I then went to get the Valium. I had a ten dollar budget for that. I had no idea how much it would cost but was hoping for a miracle. I went up to some little ogre and told him I wanted Valium and he took me inside a pub, asked me for the ten bucks, and said for me to wait there, at the entrance. He went in the washroom, came out, went over to this table of about 5 wasted drunks and then came back to me and gave me something wrapped in tissue. He said "hurry, hurry get outta here" like as if we were going to get busted or something and I swear to God he vanished into thin air. Once outside I looked inside the tissue and found some rocks that looked like stucco rocks from the outside of a house. Great, I wasn't overly shocked...I was more concerned at telling my bf that I had lost the money. We were in no way financially secure and plus he was prick.

As an aside, I will tell you that Main and Hastings is very intimidating if you are not familiar with it. Everyone tries to rip you off, they see everyone as an opportunity for getting money. Plus the ever present worry about the cops add to the stress. After being there a while you learn to not f*cking care, but in the beginning it is easy to get taken.

Back to the story: I walked across the street to where my bf had been waiting after he had gotten the weed and told him about the money I lost. He was upset but not overly so. He just made me feel like a worthless piece of sh*t and told me I was stupid as hell, the usual stuff.

We went back home and he put on a movie for me, I rolled a joint and smoked it. It made me totally freak out and my heart rate was through the roof (despite the Clonidine, which I don't even think it was anything more than a placebo..like the doctors tell you it slows your heart down but in actuality it doesn't, that is how effective it was) but..despite that, eventually I fell asleep for about ten minutes.

The night drug on and soon it was time for bed, for him anyways. I told him I was going to sleep in the other room since I knew I was going to be squirming like a son of a bitch and I would probably keep him awake.

I seriously writhed around all night. I remember getting up to use the washroom and I banged into walls, made tons of noise, I must have sounded like a buffalo when I was breathing. I was so weak. I remember thinking to myself that I was like a snake. If I slithered and wiggled while I was lying down then the "bugs" or whatever it was (sort of felt like bugs, I wasn't hallucinating) would be less active under my skin.

The next morning my boyfriend got out of bed and he asked me how I was...I was sweaty and my hair was manged big time from my restlessness and I told him how horrid and painful my night was. He then had the balls to tell me how awful HIS night had been..that his back had been hurting and blah blah blah. As if, this is sooo irritating to a person that is dope sick. People say they understand and all that but they really don't. I find it patronizing and very irritating when anyone that hasn't been "there" tells me "Oh, I understand" and tries to equivocate pain they may have felt at some point in their lives with the pain and discomfort of withdrawal. Their heart may be in the right place, but there is a difference between saying you understand and saying you understand that the person may be in pain, and with THAT you can sympathize. I don't care how many years you spent in university getting your degree in "counselling science", do NOT tell me (or tell "us") that you understand, because you don't. This is why previous drug use or any substance abuse should be a job requirement for anyone that works in a detox because I wasn't about to listen to anything coming from someone that hadn't been writhing around on the floor, pissing and puking on themselves for days.

After our initial good mornings..my bf was going to make himself breakfast. At this point I could not eat but also could not even look at the food or even smell it without getting nauseous. He cooked himself up some bacon. It was almost unbearable. In real life I like bacon but this particular day it was so overpowering and thick and just the aroma of cooking meat was vomitus.

I was hiding out in the bedroom with the door closed when he came to find me after he ate. I told him I had had enough, I was done, I had gone as far as I could go on my own. I was too dope sick and needed professional help. Then he surprised me by saying that he agreed. He said he hated seeing me like that and that he was worried that if I was already as sick as I was, he was not "qualified" to take care of me not knowing how bad it was going to get. (I honestly thought he was going to tell me how pathetic I was, that I obviously did not love him enough and I was a worthless pussy). We agreed that I needed to go score, not from Main and Hastings, but from a reputable dope dealer near where I worked in east van. I told my bf that I could not even take the bus, all I could do was get in a cab and have the dealer waiting, then I could get out of the taxi, buy the dope, get back in and come home. Cab drivers usually don't care and are used to people buying dope from the passenger side window of their car, if anything they may just ask you to get out and jump back in after.

I was prepared to go exactly how I was, in my scummy, sweaty, mangy state..no teeth brushing, no face washing, nothing. That is how it is when someone is sick, everything else comes after. First the wack, then life.

Anyways, bf called a cab and I went to score, after he combed my hair. Even the taxi ride hurt. I went then I came home, crawled up the stairs to my apt and did some dope. I had made to about a day and three eighths into detoxing from heroin.

In the grand scheme of things I was not overly ill, but when rating the levels of sickness...there really is no 1-10. Dope sick is dope sick. But if I had to rate it, I would say I was at about a 3. Remember the first time you did acid and you were wasted only an hour into it, and you think to yourself "I cant believe it has only been an hour...I can't believe that I am going to get higher"?? It is sort of like that, if that makes any sense. For me it was like that anyways. You know you are going to get sicker but you already feel so ill how can it possibly get worse? But it does.

The next day was a Monday and I was still reeling from my attempt but other than that things were basically back to normal. I went to the clinic on Tuesday, since they were closed on Mondays. I did my intake and then had to wait to see my doctor, Dr. Russell. I met with him, he asked me a lot of questions, including how much I was using each day (I was already prepared for this one, my dealer had told me to always say that you were using more than you actually were, because apparently they never prescribed you enough of the methadone to compensate). Then I had to wait three long days for my application to be approved by the Collegiate of Physicians (think that is what it is called). They could refuse you for various reasons, one of those reasons being if you had not attempted to get clean by detoxing or had not even tried to go to a detox centre. I did tell him I had tried to kick myself, and had failed. Looking back though, I see that I didn't even really need to even try to detox..I could have just SAID I tried. It wasn;t like he could look into it and find out that I was lying.

That was my first attempt at home made detox. One other time I tried to detox at "home" rather than a medical detox facility. Doesn't matter how many times there were between the first try and this next one, and to tell you the truth I can't even get things straight sometimes. Some happenings blur together and their correct chronological order is lost in the sands of time. I remember when I was a total speed freak and used to stay awake for like 7 days (I never went longer than that) and instead of feeling like it had been a whole 7 days, it sometimes felt like one super, super long day.

So this second time "we" had arranged for me to go to my sister's house in Delta to detox. I was not familiar with Delta, so I had no dope connection out there, plus they weren't planning on letting me go out much, much less letting me out with any money. My sis had been in treatment before as I mentioned and had detoxed off of alcohol more than once so she knew that I was going to be sick. I still did not know even how sick I was going to get, as I had only ever made it to day 2 and a half I think, and that time was by accident**.

To be continued....(this post was soooo long that I cut it into 2...)
_______
* It is like an elite club that you can belong to, like any support group I guess. It is easy to find a kindred spirit in a fellow addict. It is like having a radar...you can just tell when someone speaks the same language. Even now, years later, I still spot it and feel it with certain people.

**The time I made it to 2 and a half days I had gone to visit a friend of mine in Calgary and had thought I bought enough heroin for 5 days. I did not, like most junkies, I knew I had this larger than normal amount on me and blew through in record time, not even considering what I would do when I was faced with being out of dope. I ran out when I still had 2 whole days before I was to come home. I even had money, but could fine not dope in that city. No heroin, only crack. I Western Unioned some money to my dealer to have him courier dope out to me even though it was only going to get there about 6 hrs before I had to catch my flight. He did not even get the money from the Western Union place though because the guy there refused to deal with him due to my dope dealer calling him a "stupid f*cking' chink". I had to go get the $$ myself after I got back from Alberta. It was an awful 2 and a half days. I just drank a ton of vodka until I passed out and ended up puking on myself.




2 comments:

  1. Great post! I sat there and was like "OMG that's so true!" all the time...

    Yeah, all of them try to rip you off. Even in smaller cities like mine, it's the same. If they get the chance you're fucked.

    Clonidine sucks. It never helped me any. My heart rate was through the roof as well. It didn't get one bit calmer. I have a theory that no medication (exept opiates) helps quite right while you're in withdrawal. Maybe because of the crazy metabolism in detox.
    I tried taking strong sleeping pills (similar to the valium you took), but they didn't do much. I could eat LOTS of them at once, without falling asleep for a second.

    Doctors don't know shit it seems, how detox really feels and what it really does to ones body.

    Also, Zardoz! I looked it up on youtube and i need to see that movie :D

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  2. Yes, it seems that doctors think that we deserve whatever we get I guess. Why make it easier when we have dome it to ourselves? When every junkie obviously went into it thinking that their plan was to intentionally get wired to heroin.

    As for Zardoz...sigh, they just don't make movies (or costumes) like they used to.

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