Another doctor down. An unforced error on my part, once again means I'm out of a pain management office. And with it a reliable source of oxy and oxymorphone.
Fuck. Once again, the high I'm chasing landed me in a hole. A deep, dark hole, that I can't climb out of without a lot of excuses to more people than I'd like.
At first, I felt good about tapering. Maybe, this had all happened for the best, and being free of opioids would be a whole new start. However, the 6 oxys I took after picking up my new taper script, made me realize one thing: I refuse to forgo my daily dose of pleasure. Fuck, I'd rather make up a million excuses and sense their side-eyed stares.
What's the point of living without a little bit of pleasure sprinkled on top?
Thursday, November 29, 2018
Sunday, November 25, 2018
Pull All the Triggers
It's comical how easily, when in a heightened state, I can be triggered into diving into a bottle of pills or snorting them all up my nose. Not enough doses until my appointment, but I don't care. Fuck it, right?
RIGHT?
If I could mooch off my friends, find someone to help me cop, I would... any trace amount of H gets out of your system within 24 hours. Faster than any other opioid I know of, only followed by hydrocodone.
I took 2 sonata to help me sleep. Take the edge off my running nose, clenching fist, that sinking feeling in my stomach. Uncontrollable thoughts circle every movement. It all points to oblivion. I don't have anyone to talk about it with... all alone with these thoughts. The overwhelming current that pulls me back in.
All triggered by a fucking TV show.
I keep yawning out here, between typing and suck on this cigarette. The cold breeze keeps running across my feet. Shivers that want to run through my body,but I hold them back. Stop them up until my foot is tapping and my heart is racing and all I want is more more more more. Please god. Just enough to get me through until Thursday. To keep me high until then.
They post up all this "opioid hysteria" on TV. But is it really to make us feel better? Like we're not so alone. It could only be for those concerned families, so worried about their little Danny's and Susie's pill or H problem.
But for Lucy and Danny and Susie, all we get is a reminder of who we are. Our reflection played out by actors shivering and sniveling, but don't know what the fuck they're talking about.
Please let me sleep, dream of needles and powders and pills, and I'll be good tomorrow.
I promise. Tomorrow.
RIGHT?
If I could mooch off my friends, find someone to help me cop, I would... any trace amount of H gets out of your system within 24 hours. Faster than any other opioid I know of, only followed by hydrocodone.
I took 2 sonata to help me sleep. Take the edge off my running nose, clenching fist, that sinking feeling in my stomach. Uncontrollable thoughts circle every movement. It all points to oblivion. I don't have anyone to talk about it with... all alone with these thoughts. The overwhelming current that pulls me back in.
All triggered by a fucking TV show.
I keep yawning out here, between typing and suck on this cigarette. The cold breeze keeps running across my feet. Shivers that want to run through my body,but I hold them back. Stop them up until my foot is tapping and my heart is racing and all I want is more more more more. Please god. Just enough to get me through until Thursday. To keep me high until then.
They post up all this "opioid hysteria" on TV. But is it really to make us feel better? Like we're not so alone. It could only be for those concerned families, so worried about their little Danny's and Susie's pill or H problem.
But for Lucy and Danny and Susie, all we get is a reminder of who we are. Our reflection played out by actors shivering and sniveling, but don't know what the fuck they're talking about.
Please let me sleep, dream of needles and powders and pills, and I'll be good tomorrow.
I promise. Tomorrow.
Saturday, October 27, 2018
Tapering into Oblivion
Every rib hurts. The tips of my shoulder blades. The dip in my back. Tender to the touch, as if I've become a giant bruise. Even my tits hurt. Down to 5mg of Oxymorphone er twice a day and it's pushed me into a spiral of excruciating pain.
I'm avoiding taking my oxycodone... as per usual, the beginning of the month, I dove into the bottle freely. Now, I've trapped myself into only being able to take 2 pills a day to last me to my appointment in 10 days. Even then, I'll still be without pills for 2 days. I have plenty of oxymorphone because I couldn't find my dosage at any stores near me. That meant I didn't fill my prescription for another 3 days after my appointment, leaving me with a couple days surplus until I see the doctor again.
At least it's Saturday. The apartment is warm and comforting, bathed in the low lights from our many lamps. The building was built in the 70s, when it was common not to have overhead lights built in. Instead, there are outlets across the walls attached to the light switch. I prefer my lamps, the soft glow spreads across the apartment, carrying a homey sense.
I can't lie down. Whenever my body touches any surface, the pressure hits me as if I'm pushing on a deep bruise.
------------
Only 4 days until my appointment. 3 really, if you don't count the day of. I'm sated.
Our friends, suddenly pulling out a tiny bag of coke from an inner pocket, was so easily tempting. Crisper and sweeter than the juiciest apple, but I resisted. Instead, I blew another oxymorphone on top of the one I had snorted hours earlier.
Now, mixed with the tequila, vodka, and beer, I'm high enough not to care. They left a few minutes ago, and I'm now in that sweet spot of alcohol and opioids. Whatever powder has dripped down the back of my throat, has dissolved into oblivion. The opioid receptors running along my spinal column, brain stem, and appendage are filled.
I mean, I might have to get up in 5 hours in order to do some early voting. But, fuck it.
The present must be enjoyed--first and foremost. The nauseating hangover that will hit soon enough is a distant problem. Unlike the drug test which I will pass with flying colors, having escaped the dangers of coming up positive for cocaine.
A doctor has confronted me with that once. Technically, it happened on 2 drug tests in a row. The first one he did not tell me about, only bringing it up after the second positive (one month later). In my shock and horror, I told the weak lie that I must've been drugged by friends--perhaps due to some mixed into the punch? As if I hadn't put the dollar bill up my own nose, taking that line swiftly, with a deftness practiced from years of pulling powder..
Yes, I know the danger of mixing opioids and alcohol.
The real question is: do I believe this will kill me (like it has so many others)?
The simple answer is, obviously, no. Everyday, for the thousands of days I've done this, I bet that my brain's desire to breath is stronger than the pull of the drugs to cease my chest from expanding.
Even now, my muscles are tense in my legs--soon I will take a tizanidine to release them from their tense state.
The nausea is just an annoyance.
Like the room spinning and my head pounding.
But, I didn't do any of the coke they offered me. I controlled myself, seeing the consequences clearly before me.
Thank god. For once I was strong enough to see the future consequences, and not risk coming up positive--dooming me to painful withdrawals. Even if I snort my oxymorphone and mix it in a belly full of liquor, at least I didn't put that coke up my nose.
As long as I wake up in the morning, it'll be evidence that I've matured enough to see the obvious dangers in my actions.
But damn: a bump of that coke would've been so right.
However, now it's time to sleep.
Love you all,
Lucy
I'm avoiding taking my oxycodone... as per usual, the beginning of the month, I dove into the bottle freely. Now, I've trapped myself into only being able to take 2 pills a day to last me to my appointment in 10 days. Even then, I'll still be without pills for 2 days. I have plenty of oxymorphone because I couldn't find my dosage at any stores near me. That meant I didn't fill my prescription for another 3 days after my appointment, leaving me with a couple days surplus until I see the doctor again.
At least it's Saturday. The apartment is warm and comforting, bathed in the low lights from our many lamps. The building was built in the 70s, when it was common not to have overhead lights built in. Instead, there are outlets across the walls attached to the light switch. I prefer my lamps, the soft glow spreads across the apartment, carrying a homey sense.
I can't lie down. Whenever my body touches any surface, the pressure hits me as if I'm pushing on a deep bruise.
------------
Only 4 days until my appointment. 3 really, if you don't count the day of. I'm sated.
Our friends, suddenly pulling out a tiny bag of coke from an inner pocket, was so easily tempting. Crisper and sweeter than the juiciest apple, but I resisted. Instead, I blew another oxymorphone on top of the one I had snorted hours earlier.
Now, mixed with the tequila, vodka, and beer, I'm high enough not to care. They left a few minutes ago, and I'm now in that sweet spot of alcohol and opioids. Whatever powder has dripped down the back of my throat, has dissolved into oblivion. The opioid receptors running along my spinal column, brain stem, and appendage are filled.
I mean, I might have to get up in 5 hours in order to do some early voting. But, fuck it.
The present must be enjoyed--first and foremost. The nauseating hangover that will hit soon enough is a distant problem. Unlike the drug test which I will pass with flying colors, having escaped the dangers of coming up positive for cocaine.
A doctor has confronted me with that once. Technically, it happened on 2 drug tests in a row. The first one he did not tell me about, only bringing it up after the second positive (one month later). In my shock and horror, I told the weak lie that I must've been drugged by friends--perhaps due to some mixed into the punch? As if I hadn't put the dollar bill up my own nose, taking that line swiftly, with a deftness practiced from years of pulling powder..
Yes, I know the danger of mixing opioids and alcohol.
The real question is: do I believe this will kill me (like it has so many others)?
The simple answer is, obviously, no. Everyday, for the thousands of days I've done this, I bet that my brain's desire to breath is stronger than the pull of the drugs to cease my chest from expanding.
Even now, my muscles are tense in my legs--soon I will take a tizanidine to release them from their tense state.
The nausea is just an annoyance.
Like the room spinning and my head pounding.
But, I didn't do any of the coke they offered me. I controlled myself, seeing the consequences clearly before me.
Thank god. For once I was strong enough to see the future consequences, and not risk coming up positive--dooming me to painful withdrawals. Even if I snort my oxymorphone and mix it in a belly full of liquor, at least I didn't put that coke up my nose.
As long as I wake up in the morning, it'll be evidence that I've matured enough to see the obvious dangers in my actions.
But damn: a bump of that coke would've been so right.
However, now it's time to sleep.
Love you all,
Lucy
Friday, October 12, 2018
High as I Am
I had my pain management appointment the other day. It took forever for the PA to come in--never a good sign. She immediately asked me what was wrong, how I was doing etc.., and then without much of a preface she said: "Your last drug test came up positive for morphine. Do you know why that might be?"
I could feel my heart racing. That stupid shitty poppy seed tea could be the only explanation. It didn't even get me high, leaving my legs and arms feeling like they had become thick pudding. I wanted to die right there. Slip into the floor and disappear.
"That doesn't make any sense. It shouldn't be there. I don't understand."
"I agree, it shouldn't be there." She smiled at her computer screen, as she quickly typed.
"The only thing I could think of is eating some poppy seeds muffins maybe. I do eat a lot of pastries..."
"That would come up with a metabolite for cocaine."
No. No it couldn't. Not unless you're making some new type of cocaine that I've never tried. Where the fuck are you getting your poppy seeds from, bitch? Because I know that the morphine came from poppy seed tea... not that I'd tell you that...
"I don't know then, I'm really confused."
"Well, we're going to drug test you again today. If it comes up positive or there are other anomalies, we won't be able to prescribe you anymore opioid medications."
"I understand that completely." Calm down. Steady yourself. Do not seem to buck at the prospect of paying another $140 fucking dollars for this test. Because you know you don't have the money for it, but the pills are far more important than money. Without them, you might as well lie down and plan to die.
"When do you want to do more injections?"
"I'm working down my deductible. The last ones were over $1000, so I want to wait until it'll be a little less expensive."
"I can understand that." She chuckled. "Anything else I can do for you today?"
"No, the taper is kinda hard, I'm definitely in a bit more pain than before. But I'm okay overall."
"Alright sweety," I'm not your sweety "I'll see you in 4 weeks then! Take care."
"Thanks! See you then."
I walked out and grabbed a paper bag with my name on it. The plastic cup was inside. Luckily, my bladder was so full I pissed until it started to dribble down the sides. It was nice, clear yellow--obviously I've been keeping hydrated.
I appreciate that the office gives you a paper bag to put your "specimen" in, as opposed to walking around with a lost look on my face, a cup of hot urine in hand.
To find the new dosage of my oxymorphone er, I had to drive around to a pharmacy on the north side of town. I'm down to 5mg twice a day. 50% tapered down now in a month. Tiny, round, lilac tablets all waiting to be swallowed or railed.
The other night realize now that I have no idea what the goal is at the end of this. Is it to take me off long acting opioids for good and rely solely on my oxycodone for breakthrough pain? Or is this simply meant to keep me line with the CDC guidelines? If it's the latter, then we won't need to taper down anymore--my meds are equivalent to the 90 MME (morphine milligram equivalent) which they recommend.
This whole taper has made me realize that I don't want to go off opioids. In fact, I don't know what I'd do without them. Who would I be without my chemical compatriots? What would I use as my respite from the day's many let downs?
I'm high as I type this, head heavy with the 5mg oxymorphone I shoved up my nose, and the 20mg of oxycodone I washed down with Mountain Dew right as I got in the car after work. I'm scared about what it would mean to suddenly be yanked off my drugs of choice. The withdrawal would be unbearable and scares me almost as much as the thought of sobriety. There's not enough loperamide in this world that could keep me well. My tolerance is so high that even when I tried heroin I found it to be shitty compared to my pills.
For a moment, I close my eyes and felt the world sway around me. It's amazing how much euphoria can flow through the body all at once. It swells with each drag on my cigarette. The menthol resonates on the back of my tongue. Sugar from the gummy bears I've been eating mixes with it to create a foul chemical taste. But in my current state I barely care.
If only this state could be reached without the use of chemicals, I'd never touch a pill again. But, without them, I have no idea how to get to this place of infinite peace. That glowing pleasure that ricochets from my skull to my crotch, down my legs, and back up again. Cycling through my body in an infinite loop of joy.
I can only hope that, if you're reading this, you're (as) high (as I am right now).
I could feel my heart racing. That stupid shitty poppy seed tea could be the only explanation. It didn't even get me high, leaving my legs and arms feeling like they had become thick pudding. I wanted to die right there. Slip into the floor and disappear.
"That doesn't make any sense. It shouldn't be there. I don't understand."
"I agree, it shouldn't be there." She smiled at her computer screen, as she quickly typed.
"The only thing I could think of is eating some poppy seeds muffins maybe. I do eat a lot of pastries..."
"That would come up with a metabolite for cocaine."
No. No it couldn't. Not unless you're making some new type of cocaine that I've never tried. Where the fuck are you getting your poppy seeds from, bitch? Because I know that the morphine came from poppy seed tea... not that I'd tell you that...
"I don't know then, I'm really confused."
"Well, we're going to drug test you again today. If it comes up positive or there are other anomalies, we won't be able to prescribe you anymore opioid medications."
"I understand that completely." Calm down. Steady yourself. Do not seem to buck at the prospect of paying another $140 fucking dollars for this test. Because you know you don't have the money for it, but the pills are far more important than money. Without them, you might as well lie down and plan to die.
"When do you want to do more injections?"
"I'm working down my deductible. The last ones were over $1000, so I want to wait until it'll be a little less expensive."
"I can understand that." She chuckled. "Anything else I can do for you today?"
"No, the taper is kinda hard, I'm definitely in a bit more pain than before. But I'm okay overall."
"Alright sweety," I'm not your sweety "I'll see you in 4 weeks then! Take care."
"Thanks! See you then."
I walked out and grabbed a paper bag with my name on it. The plastic cup was inside. Luckily, my bladder was so full I pissed until it started to dribble down the sides. It was nice, clear yellow--obviously I've been keeping hydrated.
I appreciate that the office gives you a paper bag to put your "specimen" in, as opposed to walking around with a lost look on my face, a cup of hot urine in hand.
To find the new dosage of my oxymorphone er, I had to drive around to a pharmacy on the north side of town. I'm down to 5mg twice a day. 50% tapered down now in a month. Tiny, round, lilac tablets all waiting to be swallowed or railed.
The other night realize now that I have no idea what the goal is at the end of this. Is it to take me off long acting opioids for good and rely solely on my oxycodone for breakthrough pain? Or is this simply meant to keep me line with the CDC guidelines? If it's the latter, then we won't need to taper down anymore--my meds are equivalent to the 90 MME (morphine milligram equivalent) which they recommend.
This whole taper has made me realize that I don't want to go off opioids. In fact, I don't know what I'd do without them. Who would I be without my chemical compatriots? What would I use as my respite from the day's many let downs?
I'm high as I type this, head heavy with the 5mg oxymorphone I shoved up my nose, and the 20mg of oxycodone I washed down with Mountain Dew right as I got in the car after work. I'm scared about what it would mean to suddenly be yanked off my drugs of choice. The withdrawal would be unbearable and scares me almost as much as the thought of sobriety. There's not enough loperamide in this world that could keep me well. My tolerance is so high that even when I tried heroin I found it to be shitty compared to my pills.
For a moment, I close my eyes and felt the world sway around me. It's amazing how much euphoria can flow through the body all at once. It swells with each drag on my cigarette. The menthol resonates on the back of my tongue. Sugar from the gummy bears I've been eating mixes with it to create a foul chemical taste. But in my current state I barely care.
If only this state could be reached without the use of chemicals, I'd never touch a pill again. But, without them, I have no idea how to get to this place of infinite peace. That glowing pleasure that ricochets from my skull to my crotch, down my legs, and back up again. Cycling through my body in an infinite loop of joy.
I can only hope that, if you're reading this, you're (as) high (as I am right now).
Thursday, October 11, 2018
On Boofing:
Side note (for all of my non-drug savvy friends): boofing is a term for rectally administering drugs. Whatever Bret Kavanaugh says, that's the only definition I've heard for it up until these past 2 weeks. Other people say it means fucking. I can tell you one thing, it sure as shit doesn't mean farting. In fact, if you were boofing, the last thing you'd want to do is fart--however you define the term.
My neighbor asked me to explain the process of boofing (or plugging as I prefer to call it, as it sounds less disgusting) which I will do now (in case you ever find yourself in need of this information):
Prep: make sure your colon is clear of shit--use an enema if you haven't shit in days due to opioid induced constipation.
Step one: take an ORAL syringe, fill it up with water, put finally crushed drugs into container of some sort (I prefer to use a shot glass) or if it's black tar, mix water and heroin in cooker and heat until it is well mixed (do not let boil, or some will evaporate).
Step two: apply some lube to the syringe if desired for a smoother insertion. Then pull your pants down and get onto your hands/knees. (If the water was heated to dissolve the drugs, wait a minute or two for it to cool down--don't want to burn your rectum.)
Step three: insert syringe until the barrel is fully inside your asshole, the only part still sticking out should be the plunger.
Step four: depress the plunger until it hits the end of the barrel.
Step five: slowly remove the syringe, in order to keep the liquid from seeping out.
Step six: lay down on stomach/side for about 15 minutes to make sure that you don't loose any due to seepage.
There you have it: a thorough explanation of what/how to boof drugs. It is my preferred method for any drug that cannot be taken orally or intranasally. I no longer IV drugs, so (the few times I have taken heroin) I use this method instead. It's extremely effective, has a quick onset of action, and a great bioavailability!
Overall, I highly recommend it!
My neighbor asked me to explain the process of boofing (or plugging as I prefer to call it, as it sounds less disgusting) which I will do now (in case you ever find yourself in need of this information):
Prep: make sure your colon is clear of shit--use an enema if you haven't shit in days due to opioid induced constipation.
Step one: take an ORAL syringe, fill it up with water, put finally crushed drugs into container of some sort (I prefer to use a shot glass) or if it's black tar, mix water and heroin in cooker and heat until it is well mixed (do not let boil, or some will evaporate).
Step two: apply some lube to the syringe if desired for a smoother insertion. Then pull your pants down and get onto your hands/knees. (If the water was heated to dissolve the drugs, wait a minute or two for it to cool down--don't want to burn your rectum.)
Step three: insert syringe until the barrel is fully inside your asshole, the only part still sticking out should be the plunger.
Step four: depress the plunger until it hits the end of the barrel.
Step five: slowly remove the syringe, in order to keep the liquid from seeping out.
Step six: lay down on stomach/side for about 15 minutes to make sure that you don't loose any due to seepage.
There you have it: a thorough explanation of what/how to boof drugs. It is my preferred method for any drug that cannot be taken orally or intranasally. I no longer IV drugs, so (the few times I have taken heroin) I use this method instead. It's extremely effective, has a quick onset of action, and a great bioavailability!
Overall, I highly recommend it!
Saturday, September 29, 2018
Old Friends in New Places
We started drinking at 11am. It's now 9:20pm. I'm covered in mosquito bites, temples pulsing with the approaching hangover. 3 mimosas, and what... 4 beers? Or 6 beers? I don't know anymore. In the past, this would've been nothing for me. But now, with a husband who doesn't drink, my tolerance is strikingly low. But this weekend is going to be different...
My 3 best friends from home are here. They flew in this morning, and are staying a few blocks away at a cute little house from AirBnB.
I now have to spend the next 6 days walking a thin line and hiding whatever remnants of my past they think have died, are still alive and well. These are the people who saw me before and after I first started shooting pills, went into the hospital, went to college, got hooked and clean from coke, moved to Texas, etc. etc.. Of the 27 years I've been alive, I known 2 of them for 20 years, and the other almost as long.
Although it's been 2 years since I last saw them, it seems like no time has passed. The possible mischief that will ensue this weekend, reminiscent of high school, is exciting. I've been overwhelmed with joy since the moment they arrived. Just being in their presence is more euphoric than any drug I've ever taken.
However... friendship won't keep me out of withdrawals. My doctor appointment is Tuesday and I'll be able to squeak by until then. Enough oxymorphone er to get me to that morning, and only 4 more oxycodone... I gave in and took my third one of the day today. Technically, I'm prescribed 4 per day, so that's not an issue. But my own indulgence at the beginning of the month has meant (as it does every month) I have to ration them. 2 oxys per day, 2 oxymorphone er per day. That's it... until push comes to shove, and then, ya know, sometimes you have to take another that was meant for a day or two from now.
My future self hates my guts, but she's not here right now. She never is--just a distant possibility.
-------------------------
I haven't craved coke in so long. Being out at all the bars downtown, walking endless blocks, all I could think of was that odd taste of gasoline (or was it rubbing alcohol) numbing the back of my throat. Stress from trying to meet every dietary restriction was causing me a headache. Pissed off at their ungrateful attitudes as I led them to a place I knew would have food for everyone. I wanted something, anything to keep me going. To keep me from losing my mind. To get me as high as I wasn't right then.
I'm not sure what to do about taking my next pill later on. How to get the powder to their place and snort it in one quick snap. I haven't crushed one up in a fold dollar bill in ages. I am thinking of grinding it up here and finding a way to transport it. Maybe like the good old days in my contact case. Yeah, that's a good idea. Ill just do that.
Just because they're here that doesn't change anything. Just another obstacle to get what I need.
My 3 best friends from home are here. They flew in this morning, and are staying a few blocks away at a cute little house from AirBnB.
I now have to spend the next 6 days walking a thin line and hiding whatever remnants of my past they think have died, are still alive and well. These are the people who saw me before and after I first started shooting pills, went into the hospital, went to college, got hooked and clean from coke, moved to Texas, etc. etc.. Of the 27 years I've been alive, I known 2 of them for 20 years, and the other almost as long.
Although it's been 2 years since I last saw them, it seems like no time has passed. The possible mischief that will ensue this weekend, reminiscent of high school, is exciting. I've been overwhelmed with joy since the moment they arrived. Just being in their presence is more euphoric than any drug I've ever taken.
However... friendship won't keep me out of withdrawals. My doctor appointment is Tuesday and I'll be able to squeak by until then. Enough oxymorphone er to get me to that morning, and only 4 more oxycodone... I gave in and took my third one of the day today. Technically, I'm prescribed 4 per day, so that's not an issue. But my own indulgence at the beginning of the month has meant (as it does every month) I have to ration them. 2 oxys per day, 2 oxymorphone er per day. That's it... until push comes to shove, and then, ya know, sometimes you have to take another that was meant for a day or two from now.
My future self hates my guts, but she's not here right now. She never is--just a distant possibility.
-------------------------
I haven't craved coke in so long. Being out at all the bars downtown, walking endless blocks, all I could think of was that odd taste of gasoline (or was it rubbing alcohol) numbing the back of my throat. Stress from trying to meet every dietary restriction was causing me a headache. Pissed off at their ungrateful attitudes as I led them to a place I knew would have food for everyone. I wanted something, anything to keep me going. To keep me from losing my mind. To get me as high as I wasn't right then.
I'm not sure what to do about taking my next pill later on. How to get the powder to their place and snort it in one quick snap. I haven't crushed one up in a fold dollar bill in ages. I am thinking of grinding it up here and finding a way to transport it. Maybe like the good old days in my contact case. Yeah, that's a good idea. Ill just do that.
Just because they're here that doesn't change anything. Just another obstacle to get what I need.
Thursday, September 27, 2018
Self-Control and Lack Thereof
The bottle looks curiously empty. Well, 1/4 full is more exact. I could count the pills.
But once you know the number, then it all becomes real. The anxiety sets in. How will I make it to the end of the month? How will I work? How will I get high?
With 2 weeks to go, I shouldn't be this low. I've been rationing down to 2 pills per day since I noticed it. I've actually had enough self control to stick to it, too. It's a skill, shoving down those most intense impulses in the moment, that I mostly fail at practicing.
Right now, my left nostril clogged full of oxymorphone, only one oxycodone for after work, yet I've stuck to my goal. I haven't taken another oxycodone from my dwindling supply. Each drag of my cigarette only intensifying the opiates storming through my nervous system. The mosquitoes are eating me alive as I sit out here in front of our apartment. I hope they all overdose from the chemicals in my blood.
My best friends from home are coming out for the 6 days right before my appointment. I can't be in pain or withdrawal while we're hanging out and enjoying the city. It's the only reason I'm working hard to control myself. I don't want to ruin the time that they're out here, crumpled on the toilet, intestines ready to explode from my asshole, sweating out the chemicals I stuff down my throat and nose, unable to function beyond breathing and shitting. It's one thing to put myself through that hell, it's another to take away from the short time I have to see them. It'll be the first time since my wedding that we'll be together--and I can't wait!
-------------
I took 800mg of Cimetidine (brand name Tagamet) to potentiate the oxymorphone and oxycodone. It is working perfectly. There are perks to be a pharmacy tech, one of them is a nuanced understanding of how drugs are metabolized. In this instance, cimetidine works to inhibit the enzymes that breakdown oxycodone and excrete it. This allows more of the drug to build up, producing a better high. Oxymorphone is broken down into oxycodone--thus both drugs are now building up to perfect levels in my blood stream. The spot in the center of my forehead is overwhelmed with those calming effects that only opiates can bring. Each cigarette drag another torrent of dopamine rushes through my spine. I'm sweating from the muggy Texas heat, even though it's already 5:48pm. But in this state it's almost bearable.
But once you know the number, then it all becomes real. The anxiety sets in. How will I make it to the end of the month? How will I work? How will I get high?
With 2 weeks to go, I shouldn't be this low. I've been rationing down to 2 pills per day since I noticed it. I've actually had enough self control to stick to it, too. It's a skill, shoving down those most intense impulses in the moment, that I mostly fail at practicing.
Right now, my left nostril clogged full of oxymorphone, only one oxycodone for after work, yet I've stuck to my goal. I haven't taken another oxycodone from my dwindling supply. Each drag of my cigarette only intensifying the opiates storming through my nervous system. The mosquitoes are eating me alive as I sit out here in front of our apartment. I hope they all overdose from the chemicals in my blood.
My best friends from home are coming out for the 6 days right before my appointment. I can't be in pain or withdrawal while we're hanging out and enjoying the city. It's the only reason I'm working hard to control myself. I don't want to ruin the time that they're out here, crumpled on the toilet, intestines ready to explode from my asshole, sweating out the chemicals I stuff down my throat and nose, unable to function beyond breathing and shitting. It's one thing to put myself through that hell, it's another to take away from the short time I have to see them. It'll be the first time since my wedding that we'll be together--and I can't wait!
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I took 800mg of Cimetidine (brand name Tagamet) to potentiate the oxymorphone and oxycodone. It is working perfectly. There are perks to be a pharmacy tech, one of them is a nuanced understanding of how drugs are metabolized. In this instance, cimetidine works to inhibit the enzymes that breakdown oxycodone and excrete it. This allows more of the drug to build up, producing a better high. Oxymorphone is broken down into oxycodone--thus both drugs are now building up to perfect levels in my blood stream. The spot in the center of my forehead is overwhelmed with those calming effects that only opiates can bring. Each cigarette drag another torrent of dopamine rushes through my spine. I'm sweating from the muggy Texas heat, even though it's already 5:48pm. But in this state it's almost bearable.
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