There's more to it than just going to the chemist every day
Hey!
Welcome kids to the 101 education centre about drugs! Honestly, if kids learnt even a vetted corner of what I'm writing it would stand them in could stead - INstead they have to work it out all alone.
I have no network, no "Higher Power" - no nothing to aid me in my message...all I can hope is that a few conscientious people may read and learn from one (my) person's experience, and either help themselves or help others. That is almost the whole reason I'm trying to do this. The final reason is because I need to save myself.
At the moment this is the situation of THIS current drug addict:
I am on 110mg per day of methadone - I have to - HAVE TO - hit it or I would be on the streets looking for heroin...see, I'm addicted to hitting (injecting) as much as the drug, if not more. I collect from my neighbourhood pharmacist who treats all their methadone clients like shit (no exceptions).
I can say for a certainty that if someone told my my doctor I was injecting my methadone and he (reflex kick/no thought) cut my take aways/take homes I would be back on the street working for my addiction like in my twenties - so much worse now I am 40...what do YOU think?
Posted by Serene Selene at 10:51 PM 0 comments Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to FacebookShare to Google Buzz Links to this post
Labels: addiction, drugs, injection, methadone
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Polyethylene
Polyethylene by Radiohead, both parts but part two in particular, is an epic rock song. The sort of music that becomes the soundtrack to your life. The riff you hear as you go about the tragedy of your everyday movements; the groove of the same rituals masking pain and self-doubt....the emotional twisting of relationships as they rip at your emotional being - the excruciating soul-examination and the journey of pain into the light.
This is songwriting at it's height. It's not just about the melody or the chord progression - it goes beyond that: This song demonstrates the imagery and intuitive power of music at it's best.
It's 3am in the morning,, like Eminem's song. I've finished the last of the cask of cheap white wine that I bought from the local liquor shop yesterday (the owner trusts me and gave three dollars credit on a ten dollar cask) - four litres drunk in two days: not good.
But somehow I can't live life straight. I get too bored too easily if there isn't a drug of some sort in my body affecting my mind. Yes I'm junky, I admit it - how can I do otherwise?
At 9am I have my dose at the pharmacy that dispenses my methadone (I call it my 'swallow') and I pick up two bottles - two bottles containing two days worth of doses. One of them goes to my partner, my husband. The other one I get to ingest in the manner of my choosing, my preferred way. Really, there's nothing that gets me up in the morning except the expectation of a hit of methadone, and the pleasure and peace of mind and body that will bring. Alcohol is just a side addiction.
The above picture is accurate in so far as the size of the barrel used and most definitely the colour of the 'done (which is not green like in the former picture, although there is a brand that comes in pink). The glass bottle pictured was used by dispensers for take aways (or for the benefit of Americans "take-homes") until just a few years ago. Then inadvertently they were all replaced by plastic bottles, of which I will post a picture whenever I take it of my current take away bottle.
I tend to get rid of all shooting equipment as soon as possible, always exchanging the used wrappers in a plastic bag and the syringes and needles in sharp-safes to the workers who deliver fresh supplies right to our doorstep when I call them. The Australian Needle Exchange Program has saved my life - I am sure that was I forced to share needles I would have acquired HIV and most probably suffered a horrendous and protracted death by now. Thank the world of good that some strong and far-sighted politicians could see their way to insist on doing the right thing in the wake of the AIDS epidemic in the mid to late eighties.
I'll probably have to shoot my 'done up in the public toilets tomorrow morning (which is in a few hours) so that I feel well enough to do the shopping. I am almost certain that if I return to the house to inject my dose I will find it just a little more than difficult to leave again to perform the necessary grocery acquisitions. It's not too bad a public toilet (it even has a sharps disposal container affixed to one wall) but it lacks any sort of platform one could use for the multiple syringes necessary for preparation to be injected sequentially. I have to divide a 22ml dose into 5ml barrels because the goddamn government decided any syringe barrels larger than that (such as the 10mg and 20mg barrels I used to use) would no longer be dispensed by needle exchanges as of a few years ago. As usual the motive of prevention never achieves its aim only making things harder for the people addicted such as myself. It takes more than 5 barrels because it is necessary to dilute the methadone syrup's viscosity. The trusted NUAA (Users & AIDS Assoc), a grassroots drug users' support, information and advocacy group in Sydney, published that injectors of syrup should dilute the 'done 1:1 with water, but that's just too ridiculous. At 3:2 syrup to water my entire dose requires the use of eight separate barrels, and that's already more than enough for me.
I doubt I'll get stoned tomorrow - it took both 120mg/22ml take away doses injected on top of a 120mg swallow at the pharmacist's on Saturday for me to get nodding - so the best I can hope for tomorrow is to be comfortable. I'll placate myself with a bottle of the cheap version of Malibu - a beautiful coconut flavoured liqueur that can be mixed with anything from soft drink to milk and cream and tastes great - there's three varieties: Bombora, Rumba, and Coconut Island.
I'm going to get a few hours sleep now, before jumping up and getting dressed quickly (because it's becoming a tad colder now that winter is almost here) at eight thirty am to get my precious amber fluid.
Hey!
Welcome kids to the 101 education centre about drugs! Honestly, if kids learnt even a vetted corner of what I'm writing it would stand them in could stead - INstead they have to work it out all alone.
I have no network, no "Higher Power" - no nothing to aid me in my message...all I can hope is that a few conscientious people may read and learn from one (my) person's experience, and either help themselves or help others. That is almost the whole reason I'm trying to do this. The final reason is because I need to save myself.
At the moment this is the situation of THIS current drug addict:
I am on 110mg per day of methadone - I have to - HAVE TO - hit it or I would be on the streets looking for heroin...see, I'm addicted to hitting (injecting) as much as the drug, if not more. I collect from my neighbourhood pharmacist who treats all their methadone clients like shit (no exceptions).
I can say for a certainty that if someone told my my doctor I was injecting my methadone and he (reflex kick/no thought) cut my take aways/take homes I would be back on the street working for my addiction like in my twenties - so much worse now I am 40...what do YOU think?
Posted by Serene Selene at 10:51 PM 0 comments Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to FacebookShare to Google Buzz Links to this post
Labels: addiction, drugs, injection, methadone
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Polyethylene
Polyethylene by Radiohead, both parts but part two in particular, is an epic rock song. The sort of music that becomes the soundtrack to your life. The riff you hear as you go about the tragedy of your everyday movements; the groove of the same rituals masking pain and self-doubt....the emotional twisting of relationships as they rip at your emotional being - the excruciating soul-examination and the journey of pain into the light.
This is songwriting at it's height. It's not just about the melody or the chord progression - it goes beyond that: This song demonstrates the imagery and intuitive power of music at it's best.
It's 3am in the morning,, like Eminem's song. I've finished the last of the cask of cheap white wine that I bought from the local liquor shop yesterday (the owner trusts me and gave three dollars credit on a ten dollar cask) - four litres drunk in two days: not good.
But somehow I can't live life straight. I get too bored too easily if there isn't a drug of some sort in my body affecting my mind. Yes I'm junky, I admit it - how can I do otherwise?
At 9am I have my dose at the pharmacy that dispenses my methadone (I call it my 'swallow') and I pick up two bottles - two bottles containing two days worth of doses. One of them goes to my partner, my husband. The other one I get to ingest in the manner of my choosing, my preferred way. Really, there's nothing that gets me up in the morning except the expectation of a hit of methadone, and the pleasure and peace of mind and body that will bring. Alcohol is just a side addiction.
The above picture is accurate in so far as the size of the barrel used and most definitely the colour of the 'done (which is not green like in the former picture, although there is a brand that comes in pink). The glass bottle pictured was used by dispensers for take aways (or for the benefit of Americans "take-homes") until just a few years ago. Then inadvertently they were all replaced by plastic bottles, of which I will post a picture whenever I take it of my current take away bottle.
I tend to get rid of all shooting equipment as soon as possible, always exchanging the used wrappers in a plastic bag and the syringes and needles in sharp-safes to the workers who deliver fresh supplies right to our doorstep when I call them. The Australian Needle Exchange Program has saved my life - I am sure that was I forced to share needles I would have acquired HIV and most probably suffered a horrendous and protracted death by now. Thank the world of good that some strong and far-sighted politicians could see their way to insist on doing the right thing in the wake of the AIDS epidemic in the mid to late eighties.
I'll probably have to shoot my 'done up in the public toilets tomorrow morning (which is in a few hours) so that I feel well enough to do the shopping. I am almost certain that if I return to the house to inject my dose I will find it just a little more than difficult to leave again to perform the necessary grocery acquisitions. It's not too bad a public toilet (it even has a sharps disposal container affixed to one wall) but it lacks any sort of platform one could use for the multiple syringes necessary for preparation to be injected sequentially. I have to divide a 22ml dose into 5ml barrels because the goddamn government decided any syringe barrels larger than that (such as the 10mg and 20mg barrels I used to use) would no longer be dispensed by needle exchanges as of a few years ago. As usual the motive of prevention never achieves its aim only making things harder for the people addicted such as myself. It takes more than 5 barrels because it is necessary to dilute the methadone syrup's viscosity. The trusted NUAA (Users & AIDS Assoc), a grassroots drug users' support, information and advocacy group in Sydney, published that injectors of syrup should dilute the 'done 1:1 with water, but that's just too ridiculous. At 3:2 syrup to water my entire dose requires the use of eight separate barrels, and that's already more than enough for me.
I doubt I'll get stoned tomorrow - it took both 120mg/22ml take away doses injected on top of a 120mg swallow at the pharmacist's on Saturday for me to get nodding - so the best I can hope for tomorrow is to be comfortable. I'll placate myself with a bottle of the cheap version of Malibu - a beautiful coconut flavoured liqueur that can be mixed with anything from soft drink to milk and cream and tastes great - there's three varieties: Bombora, Rumba, and Coconut Island.
I'm going to get a few hours sleep now, before jumping up and getting dressed quickly (because it's becoming a tad colder now that winter is almost here) at eight thirty am to get my precious amber fluid.