The above illustration (by yours truly) shows a diagram of the bronchials and alveoli during an asthma attack.
Since Sunday I have been Suffering from Asthma.
My first symptoms started on Sunday morning, and I'm fairly certain in regards to the culprit-the trigger, if you will, of my current ailments.. It's either Dust, or its...
On Saturday Night I went out to pick up a few bags of the usual dope I get for my girlfriend and myself-its a double sealed, stampless bag, which I've been getting for the last few months. Though the quality rises and drops a little here and there, its always basically the same product, and the same cut-which is important for my own peace of mind. However, on this particular night, my dealer did not have his usual bags, but rather the same shitty product he had been pushing for a few weeks earlier this summer. I wasn't pleased but I got it anyway, and walked briskly back to our appartment. We pulled out the works and shot each other up in the bathroom.
The next morning I woke up with a wheeze. While this is not unusual (our mattress is located right next to the windows-which were open, as well as the ventilator), the annoying whistling sound that becomes so fucking intolerable would not be pacified by the administration of my Symbicort pump (Budesonide/Formoterol) nor my Ventolin pump (Albuterol Sulfate). Over the course of the day, things got increasingly worse, to the point where a mere 10 foot walk to the bathroom would leave me doubled over clutching my chest. By Monday, I made up my mind to go to the hospital with the assistance of my girlfriend. By that point I was not in such bad shape, meaning, I could still breath in enough oxygen to feel moderately comfortable enough. However, I start getting phone calls from my mom and my methadone counselor who informed me that there was p no way he could let anyone, even a family member pick up my dose for that day, and that I also couldn't be guest medicated at a nearer clinic. That combined with my mothers usual neurosis sent me spiraling into a terrifying panic attack. I sat at the corner of the bed, tears streaming out from my eyes, pulling off my shirt as I was begining to sweat profusely. My girlfriend, having never seen anyone in the midst of an acute asthma attack started to panic, and asked 'What can I do!?'. We had one bag left of (the normal, "good") dope, and I knew that it would take too long for clonazepam to chill me out, so I yelled 'Fix me a Shot!!'
I know that for those reading this, the thought "Wow, real fucking SMART" might cross your mind, and I get it, I really do. BUT, if you have ever experienced an Asthma Attack before, than you know it is an incredibly terrifying experience, similar to having a heart attack while drowning. I manage to hurl my body into the bathroom as my poor girlfriend prepared the shot as quickly as possible, all the while feeling hotter, sicker, and dizzier. My breaths were no longer breaths but gasps. I didn't give a fuck whether or not the dope was good or bad in the long run. All I knew was that at that very moment it would allow me to calm down enough so that I could make it downstairs to get into the cab, which would take us to the hospital. My girlfriend helped me apply the tourniquet (my flannel sleeve-I have never used 'ties' until this year, now that I only have a few veins left, all of which are rather hard to hit. For those of you who are fortunate enough to still be able to rotate on your forearms, please do NOT use a tourniquet. You will thank me in the end.), and I pierced the vein quickly, drew back that crimson flower and sent the heroin flying through my veins, into my heart and then up into my brain. Within seconds my convulsing figure sort of slumped against the wall and then crumpled completely in reliefe...I could breath again.
Anyhow, the Emergency Room really didn't do much for me that I hadn't already been doing myself, except that they prescribed me more prednisone, which I was running out of. I was also a bit pissed off because initially when I told them that I was on methadone and had not been able to make it to my clinic that day, my assigned doctor refused to medicated me. However, upon leaving, and discharging me, I got up to get my coat (I had been reclining on a hospital bed), and I began to shake like crazy, and immediately began letting out violent, dry coughs. My girlfriend caught on to me as it looked as though I may have fallen, and a group of nurses, all of who'm were very sweet ushered me to get back into the bed. The head nurse asked if I was experiencing any withdrawal symptoms (which I was just begining to at that time, you know, that gritty, sweaty feeling on your skin, especially behind your knees and calfs..).
'Yes', I said.
'Well, you wait here. The problem is that your body's used to getting a consistent dose of methadone every day. If you don't get that, it's going to make it much harder to have the strength to cough up all that mucous that's stuck inside your airways'
She then found another doctor who seemed to agree with this idea, and tried to call up my clinic to confirm my dose. Of course by this time it was well past 5 PM, and the clinic closed at 3pm, which was brilliant, so the best the doctor could do was give me a useless 20mg dosage. It's really true, when your on methadone, especially under a blocking dose like I am, every fucking milligram counts. If I use methadone rectally or intravenously (WITH[ a Micron Filter of course..), than I can get the same effects and shave off 5-10mg (with IV, I can even feel pretty nice off of 30mg). However, when it comes to oral administration, unless you are given within 5mg of your usual dose (and once again, this applies primarily to those of us who are on lower dosages), you most certainly feel that deficit.
Anyway, the next morning my mother offered to rent a Zip Car and drive my girl friend and I into the city so that I could finally get my methadone, the FULL dose. I made it with only fifteen minutes to spare, and of course, before the nurses could medicate me, they made me go through some physical examination first, which resulted in me losing my spot in line. Eventually they gave me the green light to get my 'done, so I walked back to the line, or rather, I leaned against the wall to support my weight, and tried to push myself in the general direction of the medication hall, once again, clutching my heart, and wheezing so hard it sounded as though I was whistling some really shitty drone metal song. There was one mother fucker left on line, I NEVER, EVER, ask to go ahead of anyone on line, and in fact, I often offer others who look in bad shape to go ahead of me. However, on this day, I felt like it wasn't so much to ask if I could go get medicated first (after all, I had been on line way earlier, and I was the staff who had taken me out to examine me).
So I went up to this "Gentleman", who looked to be around 49 years old and in good shape, and asked "Excuse me sir....(WHEEEZ-cough-huuuuu)...would it be.. Possible..lf you..could let..me... Go ahead of you...? They took..l me off...of line because....I am having an asthma attack....and I am really, sick...I normally would...not.. Ask.."
And do you know what this stupid, worthless, SELF-CENTERED JUNKY MOTHER FUCKER SAID!??
"Sorry man, but no. I missed my dose yesterday, I'm feeling pretty nasty".
He then feigned a tummy ache by rubbing his belly and whining in pain.
"Whatever", I said, "I missed yesterday too."
****
Well, it's now Wednesday Evening and I'm back at my appartment. My girlfriend is making some Cups of Noodles, and were going to try and find an entertaining film to watch on Netflix. We've been pretty much stuck to indoor activities due to my asthma, the two times we did go out and walk three blocks to cop really fucking did me in, though I'm pleased to say I am getting a bit of my endurance back.
Through all of this my girlfriend has been with me all the way, even practically carrying me at some points. I am so lucky to have such a wonderfully bright, funny and beautiful young woman for a mate. She's taken such fucking good care of me, and just fills me with this warmth inside that I thought another person was incable of giving me prior to meeting her. However, she's consistently broken down my nihilistic and jaded world view, and I am honestly just so greatful to have her in my life (I'm also greatful to YOU Bluelight, specifically to the bluelight blogs, as that is where babettehaze and I first started talking-and I first thought she was a boy lol).
!!!! I don't mind carrying you around bb.. this happened again last week :< but it scares me to death to see you not being able to breath...eeek. love you!