I went down to Aimee's house about a half hour before I was due at work Thursday. I brought a bag of food over for Linda, then went about the business of trying to find my phone. I went to look for Aimee and Don, but they were gone. "They've been gone all day," said Linda. "We don't know where they are. They have the car." Sigh. Fine. That explains it. They probably went looking for dope with Nana's car and my phone. I wasn't too worried if they did have it because all they'd use it for is to call whatever connects they had and have a way 4 their connect to reach them. Still, not knowing was eating me up. Linda's phone rang, then she went off on a methalogue to the caller.
I was getting impatient and Linda wouldn't tell whoever she was talking to to hold on for a second so I could be on my way to work. I HATE not having my phone. All my contacts, very few phone numbers memorized, no way to text, go on the internet away from home, no calculater, no alarm, I was not happy. I had taken 2 extra painkillers b4 I left home because I was pissed. Word of advice, don't ever do that. Instead of calming you down, they tend to get your ass all the more riled, so when Linda was ignoring me and my time ran out, I HAD to get to work, I heard myself yelling, "MOTHERFUCKER!," slamming doors, then getting ready to take off in my car.
Old behavior was creeping back in, not good. Just as I was ready to get in the car, Linda came out calling my name. I used her phone to car my own number and Aimee answered. "Hey girl I wondered what the fuck happened to my damn phone," I said. "Don't worry, we have it. We're on our way back from the hospital. I had a blood clot they had to relieve....", is what it sounded like she said. The hospital gig has been an ongoing thing with Aimee every bit as much as going in and out of jail and prison. "We'll be back in 10 mintues if you want to wait," she said. "No listen. I'm going to be late for work. I need to pick it up tomorrow morning after work," "Ok," she said.
I felt MUCH better on the drive to work. I had calmed down and got to work on time. Funny how the one day in a long time I hadn't eaten for what 2 days? The Vietnamese family I work with had cooked and offered Vietnamese food and would I join them? Damn that was good grub and very nice of them. I really feel wanted around that family the past few months, as well as the other one I take care of too. So after work, I stopped by Aimee's and her head was all bandaged and she looked like someone had beaten the crap out of her. Apparently after I left a couple nights ago, her son came back in her room in a drunkan rage and started breaking things, then proceeded to beat the living shit out of her. "OMG! Jesus Aimee, I sooo fucking wanted to call the cops, but shit I couldn't!" Sigh. "I don't know how to help you, Aimee. What do you want me to do?," I asked. "Call the cops," said Don. "And get you both arrested?," I asked.
That's the problem. She agreed that if I'd called during the 1st attack that I'd heard going on, the cops would have come and arrested her and Don for all the drug paraphenalia they always had out. Any dope always gets done immediately, but that's where this country's laws are fucked up man. Cody, her son is a big guy. He is capable of doing, and did, a lot of damage. After the 1st attack, he didn't seem drunk, he gave me a hug, acted happy and fine. Aimee said that had she called the cops her Mom and Gramma threatened to kick her out and she has no where else to go. I hate what Cody did, but I understand why he did what he did. It's all this pent up anger, no doubt, at having a Mom all his life either nodded out, dope sick, or in prison.
Still, I don't want him to kill my friend. Aimee gave me permission to call the cops next time, so fine I will, but hell I know she will get arrested again. If it would save her and get Cody some help, it's better than her dying. Still, this is a very difficult situation. I'm staying away for now. My hands are tied, because I want to help my friends but I don't know how, other than praying for them, which I've done. Aimee had said a few nights ago that kicking is a lot harder now, at our ages 44 and 43, than it was when we were Don's age, 25. This is why 1/4 meth every other month is the most I want to do, if at all.
I had a great time the other night, but everything has changed now from what it was. So I'm drug free the past few days, except for my nightly dose of 2 painkillers to taper gradually. My Rx is down to 6 pills and I'm gonna take 2 a night til they run out. I guess if the doc refuses to refill, at least the kick won't be nearly as bad off this as the tramadol.
I was getting impatient and Linda wouldn't tell whoever she was talking to to hold on for a second so I could be on my way to work. I HATE not having my phone. All my contacts, very few phone numbers memorized, no way to text, go on the internet away from home, no calculater, no alarm, I was not happy. I had taken 2 extra painkillers b4 I left home because I was pissed. Word of advice, don't ever do that. Instead of calming you down, they tend to get your ass all the more riled, so when Linda was ignoring me and my time ran out, I HAD to get to work, I heard myself yelling, "MOTHERFUCKER!," slamming doors, then getting ready to take off in my car.
Old behavior was creeping back in, not good. Just as I was ready to get in the car, Linda came out calling my name. I used her phone to car my own number and Aimee answered. "Hey girl I wondered what the fuck happened to my damn phone," I said. "Don't worry, we have it. We're on our way back from the hospital. I had a blood clot they had to relieve....", is what it sounded like she said. The hospital gig has been an ongoing thing with Aimee every bit as much as going in and out of jail and prison. "We'll be back in 10 mintues if you want to wait," she said. "No listen. I'm going to be late for work. I need to pick it up tomorrow morning after work," "Ok," she said.
I felt MUCH better on the drive to work. I had calmed down and got to work on time. Funny how the one day in a long time I hadn't eaten for what 2 days? The Vietnamese family I work with had cooked and offered Vietnamese food and would I join them? Damn that was good grub and very nice of them. I really feel wanted around that family the past few months, as well as the other one I take care of too. So after work, I stopped by Aimee's and her head was all bandaged and she looked like someone had beaten the crap out of her. Apparently after I left a couple nights ago, her son came back in her room in a drunkan rage and started breaking things, then proceeded to beat the living shit out of her. "OMG! Jesus Aimee, I sooo fucking wanted to call the cops, but shit I couldn't!" Sigh. "I don't know how to help you, Aimee. What do you want me to do?," I asked. "Call the cops," said Don. "And get you both arrested?," I asked.
That's the problem. She agreed that if I'd called during the 1st attack that I'd heard going on, the cops would have come and arrested her and Don for all the drug paraphenalia they always had out. Any dope always gets done immediately, but that's where this country's laws are fucked up man. Cody, her son is a big guy. He is capable of doing, and did, a lot of damage. After the 1st attack, he didn't seem drunk, he gave me a hug, acted happy and fine. Aimee said that had she called the cops her Mom and Gramma threatened to kick her out and she has no where else to go. I hate what Cody did, but I understand why he did what he did. It's all this pent up anger, no doubt, at having a Mom all his life either nodded out, dope sick, or in prison.
Still, I don't want him to kill my friend. Aimee gave me permission to call the cops next time, so fine I will, but hell I know she will get arrested again. If it would save her and get Cody some help, it's better than her dying. Still, this is a very difficult situation. I'm staying away for now. My hands are tied, because I want to help my friends but I don't know how, other than praying for them, which I've done. Aimee had said a few nights ago that kicking is a lot harder now, at our ages 44 and 43, than it was when we were Don's age, 25. This is why 1/4 meth every other month is the most I want to do, if at all.
I had a great time the other night, but everything has changed now from what it was. So I'm drug free the past few days, except for my nightly dose of 2 painkillers to taper gradually. My Rx is down to 6 pills and I'm gonna take 2 a night til they run out. I guess if the doc refuses to refill, at least the kick won't be nearly as bad off this as the tramadol.
