(an apology for the format of this post. my shift key is broken, making it difficult to write in a more formal style)
my biggest fear has played the largest role in my relative absence from os the past couple of weeks. many of you know that i have cluster headaches, for which i have taken pain medication on and off for the past three years. this upcoming friday, my doctor wants to put me back in the hospital, to rid me of my latest spate of cluster headaches, and to get me off oxycodone once and for all.
narcotic withdrawal and i are not strangers. i have been hospitalized to go through detox, and i have been treated at home. this time, i'm doing it on my own, and for the past week or so, i've been weaning myself off oxycodone while continuing to deal with the headaches. why? because i'll be damned if i go in the hospital for the seventh time for these headaches. i'm done being handcuffed to an iv, tired of having the cluster headaches respond to the treatment i can only receive in the hospital, only to find that within a week, they have come back full force, and i'm downing pain killers ... again.
it always starts the same. i give the oxycodone to my partner, rob, who locks the pills in a safe. we start out that i can have no more than two per day. then the pain gets worse. now i'm asking for four. some days, when i manage to get the combo to the safe, i might take extras--six or eight for the day, combined with muscle relaxants--anything to make the bottle-opener pain in my sub-orbital bone fade away.
some people deal with pain by taking to their beds and lying in a dark room. i deal with pain by distraction. i take pain pills and then keep myself busy. i cannot stand the idea of allowing pain to slow me down. i can't stand being sick, either. you can blame my childhood. you can blame my inability to cut myself a break. you can blame a lot of things. but the idea of going and lying in a dark room and allowing pain to win is loathsome. and so, i push myself, and i push by taking pills.
unfortunately, opiates push back.
in the past several weeks, things have gotten fucked up. i've been having blackouts, where i can't remember conversations i had with people, or the television show i watched the night before, posting something on facebook, or, even truth be told, writing something for os.
and that scares me. because that means the drugs are winning. i'm no longer in control.
and so, i know what i have to do.
give them up.
the doctor has offered to put me in the hospital on friday, the beginning of spring break, and both temporarily kill my clusters and get me off the opiates the easy way--with methadone and ativan and lots of supervision.
but i don't want to do it that way. as much as it frightens me, i need to do this alone. last sunday, i took eight oxycodone, today i've taken one.
what does withdrawal feel like? for me, the worst symptom is the shakes. my body trembles, as if i'm having a full blown panic attack, and soon after, i break down into full-blown crying jags. tears that won't stop. anger at what getting off the drugs is doing to me.
the nausea isn't too bad. i have drugs for the nausea. i try to keep moving, because moving makes the tremor less noticeable.
what comes next is the stuff that nightmares are made of. you see, i'm convinced that oxycodone has a brain of its own. it knows my weaknesses. it finds the thing that scares me and begins to obsess over it. over and over again. like the hamster on the wheel that drops dead of a heart attack because it's convinced that it has to get somewhere. this week's nightmare has been that i have been a lousy mother to my children.
my achilles' heel. and the fact that my eldest child is in india means that i have no way to check in with her about how she's doing. whether i need to make amends. whether i really was the shitty mother that the oxycodone is telling me that i am.
the oxycodone also tells me that, without it, i have no creativity. that i cannot write. that i'm just a hack. that i need to give up writing and stop wasting everyone's time.
withdrawal is frightening to me, before i go through it, because i always envision myself lying on a tile floor, puking my guts out and begging for a "fix." instead, withdrawal is not all that physical for me. withdrawal is knowing that the demons are going to come out of the brain, that part of my uncharted brain where "here be dragons" and i don't know what they're going to attempt to burn me with.
waking up while you're going through withdrawal is dreadful. i never knew what that word meant until i felt the dread of being awake. when the first thought that goes through your head is "i wish i was dead," you know it's going to be a rough morning until you can find the ways to cope.
but you know what? i'm doing it. by the time i go see the doctor on friday, i'll be completely off the oxycodone. i'll be working at getting myself off the muscle relaxants. i won't be having constant crying jags. maybe, i can even find beauty in a cerulean sky, or the call of the mockingbird, who have moved back into the area, despite the snow.
fuck fear.
for those of you who have not read my previous writings on pain and addiction, here are previous blog posts.
http://open.salon.com/blog/fingerlakeswanderer/2009/01/30/detox
http://open.salon.com/blog/fingerlakeswanderer/2009/03/09/my_name_is_lorraine_and_i_am_an_addict
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Comments
I know this pain and I know this fear. I sent you a pm and am sending armloads of love with it.
I've traveled the road you are navigating. I read this not in judgement, but in sympathy and spirit for you my dear friend. Tonight I will talk to Heaven... Listen and look for the mockingbird.
Myself, I'm a long time junkie, clean six years. I never had reason like chronic pain/headaches though. What a spot to be in! I've done withdrawals and the fear/guilt trips it spins, but I didn't have chronic pain waiting for me on the other side. My life actually got better pretty quickly. It just took a long time to walk thru all the consequences I had built up for years, but none of that was physical pain. I cannot imagine...
To the small extent I can relate, I feel ya...to the extent you are beyond my experience and imagination, my prayers are for you there.
Thank you for letting us in. You are a blessing here.
I find your inner strength here in your writing. You will beat it and do it well.
Peace can be a heartbeat away. {{((Lorraine))}}
Those are angels around you dear.
dope is a bitch, isn't it? there's nothing like stopping, that almost indescribable out-of-your-mind experience. but you can obviously do it, are doing it, while we all applaud. you are amazing. thank you for letting us know what you're going through. i'd send a PM but you probably already have a million and -- maybe -- don't need more stuff to do. know you're in my thoughts ...C
And the mockingbirds! What a gift, for you to notice and celebrate such things when you are suffering so much. You're my hero.
best of wishes...
P. S. You are NOT a hack. Far, far from it. Tell that voice to STFU pronto.
I wish you all the best on your journey/struggle.
We're here, sending warm fuzzies, good thoughts and many prayers to surround you while you're going through yet another challenge. We'll see you on the other side and rejoice with you when you're through the worst of it. Breathe. Enjoy whatever you can find to do and think about that makes you feel happy. Hold on. D
(and your daughter is having the experience of a life-time.....trust her......we do.)
You can do this. If you need or want help, I have listed several organizations that are alternatives to the 12 step approach in the links section of my blog here at OS that can offer you support and tools. I used SMART Recovery, myself, and I never went to a face to face meeting. Some offer services via online chat room meetings, message boards, and other interactive features.
My drug of choice was alcohol, and I have been sober for three years.
xoxo
Kim
it's a gorgeous day, and i tried and i tried to see its beauty. there was a cardinal practicing his mating call and i listened, i really listened, and i felt a little frisson of joy. this is the tough part. when i can't find my happiness. i know it will come back. i know that, soon, i'll look at this amazing landscape i live in and it will suddenly strike me that i'm lucky, and happy, and secure. right now, the battle continues to rage between the oxycodone monster, that wants desperately to be fed and so makes everything grey, and me, who knows there's a better world without it. i'm so grateful for the support you are giving me. i truly am. your comments have brought me to tears. out of nowhere yesterday, my daughter said 'if you're never scared, you can never show your courage.' and i just looked at her like she had been told to say that by someone watching over me. words of wisdom from a 12-year old.
You are always in my thoughts and prayers, Lorraine.
I took them for about 4 days and figured enough of this stuff. You could end up in trouble here. After the 4th day I may have taken one at bedtime if I was having a bad day.
I can really see how this stuff helps, but I can just as easily see it being trouble.
Good luck
Let me know if I can help in someway.
"today i've taken one"
I am down to to 1 xanax, from 4 a month ago. fuck the shakes; I will live with it.
I know this: "...the dread of being awake". I am with you. we are NOT dead, and i am glad for you and i that wishing we were doesn't make it so. Or doom us.
dine out on OS, make use of us. I just saw the birch post so I go backwards into this, and already know you are reaching out with works, here, in this sacred OS.
hugs, L
I like that this piece was in lower case. It seemed appropriate - a choice you were making, under the circumstances.
I think many addictive substances feed our worst fears. Have often thought that. They bring the shame out in us.
Please keep us posted and sending you my direct, to the heart love.
If you feel a hand squeezing yours over the next 48 hours, it'll be mine -- and no doubt quite a few others as well. Continue to take in the beauty around you. This is huge. You are not alone.
Here it goes...to you with love.