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PostPosted: Sat Jun 05, 2010 4:18 pm 
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Me and a couple of really good friends were organising a trip overseas to South-East Asia - Vietnam, India and Thailand. Up until that point I was using mainly filtered codeine, dihydrocodeine and hydromorphone to get high every single day to mask problems at home.

Whilst overseas I immediately started getting into the buffet of cheap pharmaceuticals which you can get without scripts. I started with tramadol which made me feel blissful, then moved to pretty much anything & everything -- all opioids and benzodiaipines; valium, tramadol, lorazepam all while drinking heavily, I even took a bunch of viagra and had amazing sex with two Vietnamese girls -- and keep in mind this is not just casual use, but munching them any time I started to feel at all normal. At the time I was really depressed and looking back I am sure I had a death wish.

Anyway, after a couple of weeks it seemed this just wasn't doing it anymore and one morning I woke up and realised I had somewhere, somehow purchased a golf-ball of black-tar opium. I didn't have a pipe so i started to just eat it as I assumed it would just work the same as the pills. Sure enough I have never been so high in my life. I pretty much just slept or sat there nodding for a week while friends tried to drag me around Hanoi.

On the way to India I had drunken a whole bottle of liquor before the flight since I couldn't take it with me and for some reason didn't want to waste it. On the flight I was pretty much talking nonsensically to the people around me and looked like I was about to die. So as we got of the airport at Mumbai one of my friends said: "look, your drug use is out of hand we can't go on like this". I was still drunk and said "fine go away then I'll do the trip on my own".

The next day after staying at a hotel (and wetting the bed like a 3 year old) I booked a sleeper bus to go to Goa Goa. While on the bus I dropped some Tramadol and felt brilliant, talking to other backpackers and decided to stay with some Americans when we got there. But then I took another valium and deciced to go to sleep.

..................
..................................
...............................................
(am I in a dream?)
......................................................................................................
(no I must be dead because I can't wake up)
..................
............

I woke up in a hospital in New Delhi with a cracked skill, yet I was so delirious I thought I was in Cambodia fighting the Khmer Rouge in jungle warfare. Then my mum was there, she had come all the way to India.

Turns out the anti-depressant I was taking at the time gave me serotonin syndrome which put my body into a coma for 3 weeks, shut down my breathing, collapsed a lung and almost stopped my heart. I had been on life support and doctors said it's pretty incredible I survived.

The doctors had done a urine scan and found over 15 positves including ecstacy, cocaine, opiates, various benzos, marijuana, amphetamines and viagra. Then there was the $40,000 bill for private air-ambulances and hospitals.

It was then I realised the party was over.


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PostPosted: Sat Jun 05, 2010 5:21 pm 
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Thanks, Genomics, for sharing your incredible story. I'd also like to welcome you to the forum. I think you'll find this place full of supportive and empathetic people. I know it's an important part of my recovery. Again, thanks!

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PostPosted: Sun Jun 06, 2010 3:01 am 
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Thanks for the kind welcome Hatmaker.

But why do you have a Bertrand Russel quote? He's one of the biggest eugenics monsters ever to walk the planet and openly believed 95% of the population (all poor people) should be killed.

A genius yes, but also a complete psychopath.


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PostPosted: Sun Jun 06, 2010 7:19 am 
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I agree with the quote - its as simple as that. Sheesh.

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-I'm only responsible for what I say, not for what you understand.


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PostPosted: Tue Aug 03, 2010 2:32 am 
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donh wrote:
I was involved in a car accident - likely due to the fact that I was in withdrawals from having run out of my DOC. I was very restless in the hospital (continued in withdrawals) but they were not able to put the whole puzzle together. A friend went to my house to "do me a favor" and clean everything so it would be so nice when I came back home from the hospital in a few days. Unfortunately, she found empty containers of my DOC while she was there. From there everything started to unravel - or my recovery started - or both. I was confronted in the hospital and just admitted what had been going on. I agreed to get help for my addiction. The day I was released from the hospital, I also learned that the locks had been changed on my place of employment and office. Several days later I was suspended from my job. Unfortunately too many people were made aware of this discovery - which is why these things were happening. I voluntarily went to in-patient de-tox. While I was there one or more of those who knew ended up going to the police as well. On the day I was to be released from detox (having been started on Suboxone) the police served a search warrant on my house.

I think I was at my bottom when confronted in the hospital. The bottom was lowered when I lost my job. The bottom fell out when the police became involved. While I don't think that I would have needed the bottom to go this low to get help, it certainly has served as a catalyst to make certain that I stay in recovery. Although, it also has given me multiple reasons for a relapse. Thankfully I have not even considered going that route.

It`s been said one will lose everything to drugs,health,family and friends etc. I consider losng the so-called friends because of dope to be one of the beneficial aspects of the dope usage. I also have lost a few "friends" after they learned I was banging H. I`ve never borrowed a penny from anyone, nor have caused any harm to anyone due to my use. It`s a blessing to have lost these people. I was their friend but they weren`t my friends. They have abandoned me in my hour of need which could have been a lot worse than dope addiction, a situation where one could die without some human help.

I recomend to non-using people to tell their friends that they have a problem with heroin and see their reaction. This way one is guaranteed losing fake friends instantly and experience one of the biggest heroin benefits without having to go thru wds.


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PostPosted: Tue Aug 03, 2010 6:55 am 
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Mine was simple, in fact, I brought it up in my story. I had never messed with painpills until I tried Nalbuphine HCL. This is an injectable that is widespread through the bodybuilding scene that I was into at the time. Still bodybuilding, just clean now. Well, I learned to IV it and it was getting costly. At $77 per 20cc bottle, it wasn't something I had all the time. Then I found out about an Urgent Care center. Now, I had taken pain pills before this shortly after my Jan 2007 shoulder surgery, but it wasn't anything like it ballooned into. In 2008, I started going to the Urgent Care and made up some crap that my shoulder was sore. In fact, my opposite shoulder of the one I had surgery on, in fact did have a small ligament tear, so I felt this legitimized it.

I started being a regular there. Every 10 days on the spot. 30 Loracet tablets, 10 days later back again. When I would run out of these, I started seeing my regular physician. When those ran out and had to wait, I would go to people I knew selling them. My moment that did it was the last time I went to Urgent Care. Got my 30 Loracet and swallowed 9 tablets and it didn't phase me. A week later, I was at my first Suboxone visit.

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PostPosted: Sat Aug 07, 2010 7:54 am 
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I don't believe in the idea of a single rock bottom. I've had so many low points and things that gutted me over my 13 years addicted to various drugs but they didn't seem to stop me, and I kept using regardless. I guess I was just sick of it all, and wanted to live.


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PostPosted: Tue Aug 10, 2010 10:44 pm 
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The final bottom that I hit was December of 2008. I made a run up to North Philadelphia with a very trashy individual that I was an acquaintance of. We drove around getting dope, coke, getting high, etc until around 1 AM. At this point in time, we stopped at a red light and he asked a man standing on the corner if he had something and before I knew it this guy was in the back seat of my car, which is a very nice car by the way, so he surely saw an opportunity arise.

So this guy gets in my back seat and is slurring his words ridiculously, and rambling on about nonsense. He was obviously blacked out on Xanax or maybe a combo of other things. So I immediately start thinking "oh shit, this is NOT going to be good." He starts asking us these weird questions and then all of the sudden goes "SHUTUP! YOU'RE BUGGING ME OUT! I GOT A GUN!" Then he pulls out a .38 and starts waving it around in my car. I look over at my acquaintance and he is cowered in a ball, staring out my window not knowing what to do.

I start trying to reverse psychology this guy or do something, anything, to get him out of my car. He was so blacked out on Xanax I knew he'd shoot without even knowing the consequences, but I also knew he was a little slow due to this. I tried to coax him into letting me drop him off at his house, and he started telling me which way to head. He then started asking about my cell phone in the center console and asking to see it. I put the phone in my pocket and told him that I'm not letting him see the phone. He keeps on with his rambling, gun waving, ridiculousness and finally directs me to pull over on this narrow, dingy back block in the Bad Lands.

When I pulled over, I pulled behind a parked car. He gets out of the back seat, opens the front door and my scared shit-less acquaintance jumps in the back seat and curls into a ball. The guy is hunched over, leaning in my door and waving the gun around asking "where's the dope?! give me the dope!" At this point, I am in a complete state of panic and feeling eerie as all hell. I realize that I'm in this situation by myself since the acquaintance is doing NOTHING. I saw a pedestrian walking by and asked for help, but they just kept walking and ignored me. The gunman is getting increasingly frustrated and I'm beginning to realize that if I don't do something soon I might get my whole vehicle stolen or end up dead.

I exited my vehicle, and started walking around to the guy. At this moment, he was arguing with the other person and didn't even realize I had gotten out. I figured I could get him from behind before he even knew what hit him. As soon as I approached his back, he turns around with the gun. I was forced to think fast and pulled out my cell phone. I said "here man, will you please go away if I give you this?" I handed him the phone, but then he proceeded to start screaming about this dope he seemed to think we had again. At this point I was like "SCREW THIS." I hopped back in my car and turned it on. Due to the way I was parked, if I backed up my door would of been taken off by a utility pole, and if I drove forward I would of side swiped a car HARD. I decide to go forward and just FLOOR IT. I side swipe the car, forcing the door shut and the guy to get slammed with the door and *I think* ran over, due to the huge bump I felt while pulling away.

I proceeded to floor it 100MPH through stop signs, intersections, etc all the way home. I was freaking out so bad that I just did not care at that point. We get home in record time, I step out of my car and "OH NO!" the whole side of my very nice car is DESTROYED. The person I was with had NO sympathy at ALL and I actually heard that he was going around telling people I was a pussy.

Well this situation, coupled with the fact that a few other terrible things had happened to me recently, coupled with the fact that my dad died from dope when I was 8, coupled with the fact that I was selfishly wasting thousands of dollars a month while my single-mother was barely even able to pay her bills just drove me to the point that I said "NO MORE!" I got on Suboxone a week or two later, and the rest is history.


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PostPosted: Sun Aug 15, 2010 8:49 pm 
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Yeah... rock bottom... a wake-up call... some of us had it. I didn't.

My boyfriend basically dragged me, kicking and screaming, to my Sub doc and sat there for hours, comforting and holding me very tight while I was going apeshit with precipitated withdrawals. Listening to me hiss and moan and cuss and tell him how much I hated his selfish ass. Yup. Oh did I tell you he did that 2 weeks after he was discharged from a hospital post-op (and before that he almost bled out and had to be rushed to the ER and given transfusions. His hematocrit was 8. Residents took pictures of his chart with their cellphones - "fwd: a live dead guy").

Did I hit rock bottom the day I realized I haven't taken a shower in 3 months? Not really, no. Nor when I was going thru garbage cans looking for usable cottons. I didn't cheat, lie or steal, but only because we were lucky and had a lot of savings to burn through. If I had to prostitute myself to get money, I'd do it in a heartbeat. And the reason I didn't had nothing to do with my morals, it was pure luck - having someone who could support my (and his own) habit for years...

You'd think you hit rock-bottom when you run out of veins and start IM'ing street-quality black tar into your thighs. Then you'd think that using exposed muscle tissue in a chronic wound for faster delivery should give you a hint that maybe something is wrong (sorry for the disgusting details, feel free to edit them out if it's too much). Then you end up in a cardiac ICU on life-support and spend the next year and a half learning how to feed yourself, go to the bathroom and put one leg in front of the other all over again. It's when you do your PT struggling to make 10 steps with a walker and an oxygen tank , while watching 90 y.o. senior citizens pass you by in a hall Nascar style. You'd think you learn your lesson after that. But nope.

you'd think that your little sister hopping on a plane, spending her hard-earned college money on a ticket after they locate her on another continent just to tell her they need someone to authorize a DNR cause nobody believes you're gonna make it, might have some effect on your decision-making process. You'd think the expression on her face, after she sees you for the first time in 7 years, hooked to machines and having tubes sticking out every inch of your body would make you think.

Obviously, you would appreciate your miraculous escape and a second chance on life when you go back home after 5 months with nothing but a benign heart murmur and antibiotic-caused tummyache. It's not like you would to go back to that same hospital 2 more times with the same infection (where everyone, from ER receptionist to the head of infectious disease department knows you not even by name, but they remember your _address_ and all your medical history). And no chance in hell you'd continue to shoot up the same wound site for months after they told you the next time you touch a needle you're gonna die. Right?

But even if you're that much of an idiot, you'd still be able to care about your loved one... you would give a crap about him being taken away by ambulance when his blood pressure is 50 over palp and his face is blue and his blood is gushing from an artery like water out of a garden hose? At least you'd go with him, hold his hand, beg the good doctors to save his life... It's not like you'd stay at home and get wasted just to numb yourself so you won't go crazy with fear and desperation... And you definitely won't be able to sit on your ass shooting bag after bag for three days without giving them a phone call, just in case, you know, you're curious whether he's still alive... I mean, a human being that's worth at least 5% of space he takes up on this earth won't be able to live with himself after THAT, won't you agree?..

... when he got home... I mean, with all that's happened to him, the next time he gets lucky and maybe, oh I donno, wins 50 million $$ in a lottery, he'd probably go "yeah well, big f*cking deal..." ... I was still using and had no intention of stopping anytime soon. I figured it would be easier on everyone if I just finish what I started and get it over with, - at least I'd be high when it happens. He begged me to stop using... um, nope, told a lie - he begged me to _stop shooting_, you know, he just didn't want me jabbing myself with dirty needles anymore. He was in incredible pain 24-7, refusing to take breakthrough meds, only allowing himself one methadone pill a day, and he cried every time he saw me with a syringe. And I couldn't even give him that. After all he's been through. After all I've been through. They don't show it in movies. I'm not sure they even show it in nightmares.

So he finally grew a pair and dragged me down the stairs, into the car and then up the stairs and into the doctors office. I didn't get my wake-up call. He saved my life against my will. And he is still doing it. I didn't hit rock bottom, for there was no bottom to hit. I was hauled ashore by a drowning man... heh, and you know what? Somehow I still have the audacity to give him a piece of mind about a toilet seat :)

And he loves it.

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PostPosted: Sun Aug 15, 2010 9:17 pm 
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Amazing story.........you are a true miracle......I am glad you are alive and you have him in your life...


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PostPosted: Sun Aug 15, 2010 11:04 pm 
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Thank you ReRaise. Thank you so much.

I'm still afraid though.. that my punishment is only delayed. You're not supposed to get away with these things. It just wouldn't be fair...

P.S. it's amazing how different it is now. Doing drugs is like having someone else s head on your shoulders.


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PostPosted: Mon Aug 16, 2010 10:25 am 
Thank you for sharing part of your story, mathAn. Wow....what a ride you have been on and your boyfriend too! Bless his heart for dragging you in for treatment. I have heard somewhere (not sure where but I think it was at my 'forced' intensive outpatient treatment program) that statistically it didn't matter whether one entered recovery 'voluntarily' or was placed in treatment in a less-than-willing manner....the outcomes were still the same. Of course, regardless, the statistics of staying in recovery are pretty crappy, but my point is that in my opinion, your boyfriend was great in basically strong-arming you into treatment. The thing is.....it got you started. Same as you, had I not been essentially forced into treatment, I probably wouldn't have gone and who knows what would have happened then. Now, your situation, just from a medical standpoint, was WAY more scary than mine! You are so fortunate to be alive and in recovery! And still have your boyfriend!!
I like what you said about doing drugs being like having someone else's head on your shoulders. That's a great way to put it! And exactly how I feel about it. It's like "Who was that person? What the heck were you thinking?" The pull of the drugs changes you. It really is a compulsion. Despite all the harm or potential for harm that you are facing, you cannot stop yourself from doing it. It's pure insanity!
Hey...I'm glad you are better! And glad you're here!


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PostPosted: Tue Nov 23, 2010 11:44 pm 
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theres a ton of really amazing stories here, crazy and amazing, amazing becuase they led us to quitting, crazy because, well, they just are. anyways, i tried to quit so many times. i tried to hide the addiction from my parents because i knew they would be ashamed. Everytime they found out i was using, they would be supportive and i would go back to using and hiding it, then they would find out and the pattern would repeat. The last two times i quit, the second being the last time i used, i called my mom and told her what was going on, she didnt know my boyfriend at the time was using and supporting alot of my habit but she probably had an idea about it. i guess at the time i didnt want her to break us up i didnt want to hear the truth, i thought we could get through it together. I also always had these thoughts in my head like, "what if we break up, who will help support my habit?" i did have feelings for the guy but drugs played a big hand in those feelings. anyways, last time i used i called my mom (a year ago) and said im using. she took me to detox. the sad thing was that wasnt even enough. my mom said this was the last time, she wasnt paying for it or supporting me anymore. I got out and gfelt like shit still, i was past the main w/ds but i still felt the effects of having been on a mind altering substance for years and years. i started using pills again and def new i couldnt tell my mom. i was seeing a really good therapist at the time and told him i was using and he sent me to the sub doc. I could have hidden it from him but i knew i was ready. I wanted to pay off my credit card bills, and my debt from detox due to insurance lapsing, and have money to spend not just on the day i got paid on drugs. I wanted to live a normal life. I had been living around addicts for so long that i thought this was normal and once my ex (who was using with me) dumped me, or just had his mom dump me because he was a coward, which was the best thing ever FYI, i realized i wanted to live a normal life, a life not addicted to anything. I didnt want to worry about being sick every day, i didnt want to lose everything, because i almost did lose everything.


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PostPosted: Sat Nov 27, 2010 9:33 pm 
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Mathan-OMG! Your story is incredible. I am so glad you are alive and your boyfriend is too and that you are still together. How awesome that he "grew a pair" as you said and dragged you to the sub dr. Your honesty and humor is appreciated and respected. I've read your posts and you sound really wise and caring.

I've written my story under the methadone maintenance so no need to repeat it.

But my first bottom..... was shooting fentanyl, throwing up outside my boyfiends house due to too much fentanyl too often and telling him and him believing me that I had the flu. He found out shortly thereafter when I was in detox one weekend and said that I was an addict and needed help. But I went back to work on Monday and used. I had to. I was so sick from fentanyl w/d. So then I'd lie to him and tell him I was clean and he'd check my backpack when I was in the bathroom and found my syringes, tourniqeut, stash....and he lost it. I continued to just lie and lie and lie. I never knew I was a liar. I could have put in a hep lock as I was an anesthetist but I didn't. I had come to love shooting up. I loved the entire process. Sick. Seeing the blood flash back and waiting for that first warm glow, blanketed in fentanyl. I had tracks when I went to his resident dinner. I was wearing a long sleeveless dress (? WHY?) and had put makeup on my arms. whatever. I had tracks and w/d when I finished my anesthesia program. I took a job initially in Austin Tx, and was high the entire time. I actually got intervened because I just blatantly stole a huge box of narcotics thinking I could somehow figure out a way to not let it be linked to me. I signed them out. What was I thinking? OH, I wasn't. No rationality whatsoever. I then went up to Alaska to visit my son who was 7 at the time. I was in w/d on the plane, and the guy next to me kept asking me if I was ok. I got to my ex's house where I stayed and said I had the flu and went to bed. I tried to get codeine becasue you can sign for it up there and get a bottle every 48 hours. (probably not any more)but I couldn't get it for some reason. I'd fake coughing and being sick to legitimize it all. I flew back to my job where I was intervened immediately. I lied at my assessment and even with their fool proof assessment tool I just barely missed being dx an addict. They let me go but I got fired. I drove 16 hours back to my boyfriends and where I originally trained. I got on staff there. I was taking so much fentanyl a day I do not know how I am alive. I would work in open heart surgery and we used primiarly fentanyl and sufenta to put those pts to sleep. I had a lot of freaking fentanyl at my disposal and my addiction and tolerance went sky high. I took 35-50cc/day which is a lot of fentanyl. (for instance I'd give a someone getting their gallbladder out thru a scope probably 5cc of fetanyl intraop) One time I was in the bathroom at work shooting up and the blackness closed in on me. I thought oh please, don't let me die here at work with a syringe and tourniquet and my son finding out I am a junkie. I didn't' die. But believe me.....going to work and using at work made me sick of myself. I hated myself. My pts never suffered and never didn't get pain meds. I am glad of that, but I'd sign out more than was usual and it started to get difficult. I'd end up doing all sorts of anesthetics and after I left cardiac I didn't have the same access. I couldn't sign out 2-20cc ampules of fentanyl any more. So, what did I do? I went to the other hospital one weekend, walked into the med room and literally just pulled the locked cabinet open and grabbed a 20cc ampule of fentanyl so I could have my solo party that weekend. The next Monday everyone was going crazy with the loss of the fentanyl. No one suspected me. I was told how great a job I did. Of course. Why would I want to jeopardize my "dealer", my work? I hate even talking about this and only one or two people know the truth. The real truth. Well, my old job in Austin called my work and they started testing waste syringes. We couldn't just waste them any more. We had to "turn them in". I was so fucked up i didn't even get this. One day, after shooting up and then starting a case my supervisor and another supervisor came in with a resident who took over my case. I got intervened. I lied initially. I sat in a room with major players at this clinic and they were incredibly loving and kind. They said "if we are wrong we will issue a public apology to you". I was busted. I knew it was the end. I walked up to my locker with my boss and fessed up. I cried and he as he drove me to urgent care for a ua and then to rehab he said "We are a family here and we take care of our family". Can you believe that? I couldn't. i didn't even feel a part of my own family. How could I feel that there? I didn't believe it. I felt like the biggest loser. No one else had done what I had done I believed. I really had no idea any other anesthesia personnel had used. Just loser me.

I ended up in inpt treatment for 5 weeks (and they would never let me out on pass!) I felt like a caged rat. I was terrified. I called my boyfriend who was doing some of his residency at a different clinic in Fla. and told him I was in treatment. I didn't want to see him, tho. He ahd been cheating on me and I was sick of his lies, too. I ran from everyone while in treatment there. I didn't tell the truth about anything. I didn't trust anyone. I had such a facade that I had no idea who I was. Happy on the outside, fucked up on the inside. One day about 3/4 of the way through and making little progress a woman came in from Hazeldon. It was really weird because she couldn't figure out why they transferred her. They told her it was due to her seizure d/o but she hadn't had any and had been doing well for 4 months at hazeldon. Well, to this day i believe she was sent there for me. I heard her tell her honest story in group and I was floored. Who would tell all of that? That she sold her babys crib for dope. That she would crawl around on the rug looking for rocks. that her husband was also in treatment and the kids...well she was going to possibly lose them. three of them. Her husband and her were professionals and they were as messed up as me. Her husband was in Phoenix I think, tho. So as I sat and listened to her be honest day after day I started to tell the truth. It started with telling how much fentanyl I actually used and it got better and better. I finally understood why I was going to have to go to the "house" in Wisconsin where they send all their medical employees. I had a lot to learn and understand and a little 5 weeks stint in inpt did very little. Even 4 months in a res. house barely touched on my psychopathology.

That was only one bottom out of a couple more in my lifetime. I am done with this. I had another relapse and got fired from another anesthesia job. I started doing locums, made a shit load of money, and relapsed again. I finally just quit working and said forget this and surrendered my licenses. In between these two times I had finished a follow up program with the board yet relapsed as soon as I didn't need to do ua's any more. I went to another detox and was serious, very serious about recovery. I started to get some more of myself. I had married and we moved to the NW and after four miscarriages I used vicodin again. One day in a women's meeting I cried for an hour wondering why this was my life. How did I become this? Everyone was crying....my sponsor stayed with me after the meeting for four hours and we talked. She said one thing that made sense and that was Are you being honest about anything? and say what it is that you really want. For the first time I admitted that if I could I wanted to be able to use without consequences. I was so sick I had no idea what real recovery was. But I said something that I had been too ashamed to say before. And I started to get better. That was when I ended up with 5 years clean and sober. True sobriety, true recovery. I worked the steps, did an inventory and really faced my shit. It was painful. I was one sick girl. everyone in my family is addicted except my mom. my dad quit drinking on his own when I was 10 and they couldn't understand why I didn't have any will power.

There is even more to the story if you can believe it. I relapsed again after my divorce and loss of custody even tho I was sober. I had a series of things happen and no support group and I succumbed again. I remember thinking "I can take just one vicodin, nothing will happen". Yeah, soon I was waiting for the fed ex van every month, shopping at different sites, hoping I didn't get arrested, visiting urgent cares, spending money i didn't have and racking up credit card debit very quickly. i did this for 2 more years and spent easily 10k. I started grad school and was still dabbling a bit. I was adding to this mess ativan because of my anxiety over not seeing my daughter every day. I was crying and sobbing every day since the divorce in complete and utter pain at the loss. I had planned to kill myself one night. I was at school with a friend and we were sitting in a classroom waiting for class to start and I started crying about my daughter. I was sobbing. I told her I needed to leave, that I couldn't be in class like that. I had already decided that was it. I was done. I was going to od. She asked me where I was going and I said oh to a meeting. Bullshit. i wasn't going to meetings at all. She didn't understand addiction but she knew something was up and she would NOT let me leave. I tried everything to leave but ended up staying. after class was over I got some sanity back. yet I continued to do this with the vic again and again. I had even been arrested that year after taking a bunch of vics from a friends house and she calling the police on me. I scraped by on that arrest and was released and never charged. I was lucky and grateful. But, I continued to use, and order vic....my boyfriend was sick of me. I actually broke up with him because I was sick of me too. I started drinking heavily at that time, driving and drinking. How I didn't get a dui is beyond me. i was shit faced, driving. I was so so so depressed about my daughter. I could not feel better no matter what I tried. And yes I was also on wellbutrin. I had another half year in grad school left and I entered into the methadone program. My addiction started to go into remission, I was in counseling and meetings. I finally started getting better. I have been on methadone almost 3 years and clean and sober on it. going to meetings and working the steps and going to weekly counseling. I dealt with childhood traumas. still was depressed about my daughter but it wouldn't get better until I got sober. I know that much.

So here I am ready to change from methadone to sub since the judge told me I was a junkie addict.

I have had many bottoms, I guess is my story. I am really lucky to be alive on many fronts. I've made stupid ass decisions out of fear and depression and desperation. I've dated assholes and nice guys and hurt everyone. Mostly I have hurt myself and my daughter and I can barely say that. I adore her with all my heart and life and to hurt her is just too much. I didn't think I was hurting her. I had to stop blaming my ex and really take stock. He is not a nice guy for sure but I was a mess after I left him and after the divorce when he got custody. I didn't deserve at that time to lose custody but i did nothing to make my situation better. I never believed I'd be where I am today, with needing supervised visits after being stable on methadone but obviously there is more for me to look at. I am. I am living an honest life, an accountable life. I am working on forgiveness for myself and my ex and alot of others like my attorney, the judge, my friend who called the police, my ex boyfriend...my brother, and even my son. I have had so much anger I didn't recognize myself.

I am very excited to be on suboxone. I need it. I can't afford any more fuck ups and relapses and bullshit behavior. I am not that kind of woman! I am funny and kind, empathetic and love my work. I have so many interest and I gave them all up for opiates. Opiates are evil. For me that is.

I've had so many losses these past five years: death of my sons fiance who was very close to me, divorce, custody loss, sick father and mother and mother's death, my brother taking my father from me which I am getting ready to deal with soon, loss of my self respect, loss of job, loss of apartment due to my ex calling my work about the methadone treatment. It's just too much some days. But today, I know i can handle it one day at a time. I do what I can each day to take care of myself and to remain honest.

This disease is unreal. I believe I can help a lot of people in my work who suffer from this and my goal is to do just that. I get it. We all get it. Now that I've experience MMT and soon Bupe, I think that is even helpful. I have a lot of clients on bupe and altho i know a lot about the pharmacology of it I really knew nothing about it. Now I do.

We have to fight to educate people and I think most of us see that and do what we can. I just want to encourage everyone to fight for this medication because it saves lives and changes us into our core beings, useful, happy, helpful, kind. Every addict I have met has these qualities. I think some times a lot of us are so emotional and so invested in people that it hurts us. balance is key. Boundaries are key. Willingness and honesty are a must.

Anyway, thanks for reading and I look forward to reading more stories about our survival.


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PostPosted: Sun Nov 28, 2010 12:47 am 
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Hi chinagirl -

I've read your posts in other threads and this one and I always come away thinking that you must be an incredibly strong person to have lived through so much and to still be fighting for the good life that you know you deserve.

I started my treatment with Suboxone in Oct of 2007 and I finished in Aug of 2009. Alltogether I have been working on my recovery for just over 3 years...and I honestly have to say that if someone took my daughter away from me, that would seriously challenge my ability to not get high. My dad died just two months after I tapered off Sub and I survived that, but being forcibly separated from my kid would probably send me off the deep end.

Which is to say that I admire your ability to hold it together and take steps to try to change the situation, and I admire the fact that you're trying to keep some perspective & are even working on forgiving your ex-husband. (Recently I read that forgiveness is just giving up the hope of having had a better past, and that does seem to apply here :) ) I'm also really impressed that while you were going through all of that, you managed to go back to grad school and get your MA in psychology - holy crap!

I really do hope that Suboxone works well for you. I read in another thread that you've been on 75mg of methadone for about a year and I was curious about what your Sub doctor thinks about switching to Sub at your level of tolerance. From what I've read around here and other places on the internet, making the switch from MMT to Sub is much easier & there is less risk of PW if you are at a tolerance level of around 30mgs or less. Also, tolerance is a much bigger factor in potential PW than amount of time since your last dose of methadone or even the level of physical withdrawal that you're in when you do your induction. I'm not trying to freak you out or anything - just wanted to share the info I've picked up over the years.

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You can't stop the waves, but you can learn to surf.

-Jack Kornfield


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PostPosted: Sun Nov 28, 2010 10:17 am 
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Hi Doaq,

thanks for the response. Wow, I've never really thought i am strong necessarily but I am a fighter.! It has been really difficult this past 5 years especially. I went nutso when my daughter was taken. No reason for that at the time either. I have been so angry. and sad and crying all the time. It fucked up my relationship with a guy I dated for 2 years after my divorce. I then started back on vic because of it then went to methadone clinic when I realized I was in world of hurt in many ways.

Yeah, my dr. said it would be a tough transition, however it hasn't been. not yet. I mean, I don't feel great, and pretty much lay around right now on the computer hence the posting craze. But it is day 6 and I woke up at 4 and was restless, nauseated, headache, chills/hot thing so I just now did my induction. I only took 2mg of subutex about half hour ago. I don't feel much, maybe slightly better but I am a freak with psyching myself out.

I'll post more today about how my induction goes...probably under Sub induction. HA!

I don't know...even when detox off 20 norcos a day for a year my w/d were doable. Fentanyl now that was hard. I'd be in detox by sat am because I could never make it last. Never. and my then boyfriend and I would drive to the city and do stuff while I was in w/d! He didn't know and I'd be so tired and uncomfortable. I have no idea how i did that. So, the point here is that I just think I handle w/d well or something, I don't know. Maybe that is why the methadone is not so bad. I am shocked.

I have a client today who is on bupe, funny, and I don't want to be in w/d when I see him...I'm going to take another 2mg in 2 hours....wish me luck!


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PostPosted: Sun Nov 28, 2010 11:57 am 
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My bottom was seeing the hurt in my wifes eyes one too many times and knowing my daughter deserved a daddy. Simple, yes, powerful, oh yeah.


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PostPosted: Sun Nov 28, 2010 12:48 pm 
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Romeo, you're just a sweetheart.....


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 Post subject: bottom
PostPosted: Sun Nov 28, 2010 6:48 pm 
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Well for me, rock bottom was a couple of things. My daughter sitting with me in the Emergency Room for the umpteenth time. The sad look on her face because she knew why I was there and couldn't understand my addiction. My other daughter that is learning disabled, brain damaged asking me what's for dinner and I can't even get up from my bed or keep my head out of the bucket puking long enough to go fix something for her to eat.

One time stands out in my mind. I was in the E.R. ~AGAIN.~ The doctor comes in and gives me a Subutex and telling me "I spoke with your doctor and I am giving you a script for Suboxone" Yes, in my hospital in New York they give you subs in the E.R. and call your sub dr. and give you a script. I wish it was that way for many of those that write here. "Thank God" I said to myself. After 25 minutes I felt better and I told my daughter "I can get up now. Let's get the prescription & get outta here" When I went to get up I hadn't realized it but I was in a puddle of green diarreah. How disgusting and embarrasing. That's when I said, I can't go on like this. Look what it has come to. My crapping all over myself, a 67 yr. old grandmother. What an example for my grandson in college.

Thank God for Subs and lessons learned. Never again!!

Love & Hope, Queenie


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 Post subject: Lost
PostPosted: Sat Dec 04, 2010 10:59 am 
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My bottom was that I lost everything I had worked so hard for. My house my marriage, car , driver license, and the will to move on in life. I just couldnt take it anymore. the pain of all this was killing me. Slowly !!! I had decided I had to do something so I went to see a Dr. about starting Suboxone. My life is not perfert and their is a lot to fix. I now have a more up beat out look on life and willing to do what I have to . It may take a long time to get some of those things back. But Im still here and thank god for that. Amazed I made it this far . Im 38 which is young ….but the way I was living ( if you even want to call it that ) is crazy. I have lost a lot of close friends not just drug buddys. So here i am ready for my second life. Im happier now then I have been in a very long time. Also thank you for this web site. It helps big time. Wishing everyone the best.


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