I have been possessed by the spirit of Nancy Reagan. "Just Say No!" Wait a minute...she's not dead. Hmmm...
Visualize This
A man told me today that he can't piss standing up due to his back pain. (He has a slipped disc or something in his back...not a dick slipped in his back as Pat thought I said.) He went on to say that due to the constant pain he was unable to fully empty his blatter because he would clinch against the pain and that would cause that sphincter to close. But now that he's come to the clinic, he told me that he can empty his bladder. He was excited about it and I'm happy for him. I try not to take my youth and current good health for granted...people like this guy put it all into perspective for me.
Anyway sharing all of this with me was necessary, I suppose, so that I could understand the nature of his illness and pain. I'm flattered that he felt comfortable enough with me to talk about such a possibly embarrassing issue. However, he really didn't need to go into such detail as to describe how he must "push" when he's trying to go to the bathroom. He even sat in the patient chair and demonstrated how he must sit on the toilet for anything to "move" for him. This was entirely unnecessary and now I have the mental image of this man sitting on the toilet burned permanently in my memory. Lovely.
Blue Body Scrub Thingie
A couple of days ago I found, hidden under the shower curtain in a corner of my bathroom floor, a medium sized light blue body scrubbie thingie. I know it's not mine or Ben's, so it must belong to one of my guests from the holiday. So I say to the owner of this item, if you want the scrubbie thingie back, I will keep it in a very safe place for you until I see you again and can return it. If, however, you do not have any attachment to the light blue scrubbie thing, please let me know and I will dispose of it in an environmentally sound manner.
I want somebody who sees the pointlessness and still keeps their purpose in mind;
I want somebody who has a tortured soul...some of the time;
I want somebody who will either put out for me
or put me out of misery;
Or maybe just put it all to words and make me say, "You know, I never heard it put that way".
Make me say, "What did you just say?"
~Ani Difranco "Asking Too Much"
Friday, January 31, 2003
Wednesday, January 29, 2003
I'm tired. My job just seems to be getting more stressful with each passing day. My case load is now 63 patients. And there's just so fucking much to keep track of...it's wearing me thin. :) And the patients themselves, dear Jupiter! But now I'm going to tell you a story:
Today, I received an anonymous phone call from someone reporting that they had seen my patient, high as a frigging kite, playing in traffic. The caller was a friend, she said. She was an older woman who was genuinely concerned about my patient's health. I'm guessing it was a mother or an aunt. She reported that my pt. had taken her methadone that day plus some benzodiazepines, barbituates, and some other substance that the pt. claimed would cause all of this stuff not to show up in her urine drug screens.
Benzos and barbs are classifiied as central nervous system depressants. They are typically used to sedate a person to treat anxiety, etc. Methadone, when taken with certain other drugs, will enhance the effects of those other drugs. Benzos and barbs are extremely dangerous to take with methadone. Mixing a high enough dosage of the two will cause a patient's heart and breathing to slow to a dangerous level and will either put them in a coma or kill them. A patient at our clinic just lost his girlfriend two weeks ago because she decided to see what would happen if she took his methadone and a few benzos. Basically, my patient is running a high risk of killing herself if she doesn't change her behavior soon.
Talk about a stressful situation. She wants to get off drugs very much...she basically has to or she loses her husband and her children. I don't blame the guy for leaving. I would do the same if I were in his situation, I'm sure. But I want her to succeed so that she can save her marriage and be a mother to her children! The problem is that she just can't break out of this old pattern of behavior. She's my age...I could be her if I had made different choices. It's hurting me that I can't help her...she simply won't let me. I've spoken with her once about the dangers of mixing other medications with methadone. I'm going to talk to her again tomorrow. I certainly hopes she heeds my warnings. I really don't want to read her obituary any time soon.
Shawn and Chris talked about drug use and substance abuse in their blogs this week. I smoked a fair amount of "wacky weed" back in the day, I've hit acid before, and I've drunk myself to the point of oblivion and extremely unattractive stupidity. But I've never once taken any pills, snorted anything, or shot anything up. I was and am too fucking afraid of addiction and of what I would become. Unlike my boys, I don't fear letting out the deep dark things hidden in me. They're really not that deep or dark. :) I've always had only a sort of constant underlying melancholy...not a raging demon waiting to leap out and devour whomever it may. What I fear, I think, is losing control of who I am...letting something else take control of my life. I realize now that my fear is well founded...and just may have saved my silly ass from a very different lifestyle.
My experiences working with drug addicts have taught me a few other things:
The first being not to pass judgement on anyone. (Yes, this is something we all try to do and say we do but our society is designed in such a way that we are constantly comparing things to determine what is "right" and what is "wrong, what is "good" or "bad". We learn and understand our world through judging and comparison. We understand ourselves and our roles in society by comparing ourselves with others. So we all judge daily.) The events that lead many of my patients to drug addiction could just as easily have happened in my life. I just got lucky and was gifted with wonderful parents who helped me to make the right choices and helped me to develop a strong will.
The second thing I've learned is not to trust anyone when it comes to taking drugs. I've had people tell me of how their best friends, even their family members have given them drugs laced with something else and didn't tell them until it was too late. You can really never know if friend or even the dealer didn't lace that joint that they're passing you with cocaine or angel dust.
The third and greatest lesson I've learned is that substance abuse of every kind can destroy your life and the lives of those you love the most. I've met people who's mothers, fathers, siblings, aunts, uncles, and cousins won't talk to them because of their past actions under the influence of drugs. I've met people who've lost all family, their husbands/wives, boyfriends/girlfriends, children, friends, jobs, vehicles, homes, and all their possessions due to substance abuse. A few of them have only the clothes on their backs and their lives. They somehow gather up the $12.50 it takes to dose daily at the clinic. And that's their world.
I experiemented with those few things when I was younger, and as little as 6 months ago I was probably even open to experimenting a bit more. But not now. Not after all of the shit I've seen and the broken lives that I'm faced with daily.
My message, in short, is please don't do drugs. There are dangerous substances out there that can take control of you without you even realizing it. Just don't go there. :) That way you won't have to worry about doing crazy shit like screaming disturbing things out at downtown bars or asking pretty girls to shoot you with your own gun. :)
Man seeks to escape himself in myth, and does so by any means at his disposal. Drugs, alcohol, or lies. Unable to withdraw into himself, he disguises himself. Lies and inaccuracy give him a few moments of comfort. ~ Jean Cocteau
Today, I received an anonymous phone call from someone reporting that they had seen my patient, high as a frigging kite, playing in traffic. The caller was a friend, she said. She was an older woman who was genuinely concerned about my patient's health. I'm guessing it was a mother or an aunt. She reported that my pt. had taken her methadone that day plus some benzodiazepines, barbituates, and some other substance that the pt. claimed would cause all of this stuff not to show up in her urine drug screens.
Benzos and barbs are classifiied as central nervous system depressants. They are typically used to sedate a person to treat anxiety, etc. Methadone, when taken with certain other drugs, will enhance the effects of those other drugs. Benzos and barbs are extremely dangerous to take with methadone. Mixing a high enough dosage of the two will cause a patient's heart and breathing to slow to a dangerous level and will either put them in a coma or kill them. A patient at our clinic just lost his girlfriend two weeks ago because she decided to see what would happen if she took his methadone and a few benzos. Basically, my patient is running a high risk of killing herself if she doesn't change her behavior soon.
Talk about a stressful situation. She wants to get off drugs very much...she basically has to or she loses her husband and her children. I don't blame the guy for leaving. I would do the same if I were in his situation, I'm sure. But I want her to succeed so that she can save her marriage and be a mother to her children! The problem is that she just can't break out of this old pattern of behavior. She's my age...I could be her if I had made different choices. It's hurting me that I can't help her...she simply won't let me. I've spoken with her once about the dangers of mixing other medications with methadone. I'm going to talk to her again tomorrow. I certainly hopes she heeds my warnings. I really don't want to read her obituary any time soon.
Shawn and Chris talked about drug use and substance abuse in their blogs this week. I smoked a fair amount of "wacky weed" back in the day, I've hit acid before, and I've drunk myself to the point of oblivion and extremely unattractive stupidity. But I've never once taken any pills, snorted anything, or shot anything up. I was and am too fucking afraid of addiction and of what I would become. Unlike my boys, I don't fear letting out the deep dark things hidden in me. They're really not that deep or dark. :) I've always had only a sort of constant underlying melancholy...not a raging demon waiting to leap out and devour whomever it may. What I fear, I think, is losing control of who I am...letting something else take control of my life. I realize now that my fear is well founded...and just may have saved my silly ass from a very different lifestyle.
My experiences working with drug addicts have taught me a few other things:
The first being not to pass judgement on anyone. (Yes, this is something we all try to do and say we do but our society is designed in such a way that we are constantly comparing things to determine what is "right" and what is "wrong, what is "good" or "bad". We learn and understand our world through judging and comparison. We understand ourselves and our roles in society by comparing ourselves with others. So we all judge daily.) The events that lead many of my patients to drug addiction could just as easily have happened in my life. I just got lucky and was gifted with wonderful parents who helped me to make the right choices and helped me to develop a strong will.
The second thing I've learned is not to trust anyone when it comes to taking drugs. I've had people tell me of how their best friends, even their family members have given them drugs laced with something else and didn't tell them until it was too late. You can really never know if friend or even the dealer didn't lace that joint that they're passing you with cocaine or angel dust.
The third and greatest lesson I've learned is that substance abuse of every kind can destroy your life and the lives of those you love the most. I've met people who's mothers, fathers, siblings, aunts, uncles, and cousins won't talk to them because of their past actions under the influence of drugs. I've met people who've lost all family, their husbands/wives, boyfriends/girlfriends, children, friends, jobs, vehicles, homes, and all their possessions due to substance abuse. A few of them have only the clothes on their backs and their lives. They somehow gather up the $12.50 it takes to dose daily at the clinic. And that's their world.
I experiemented with those few things when I was younger, and as little as 6 months ago I was probably even open to experimenting a bit more. But not now. Not after all of the shit I've seen and the broken lives that I'm faced with daily.
My message, in short, is please don't do drugs. There are dangerous substances out there that can take control of you without you even realizing it. Just don't go there. :) That way you won't have to worry about doing crazy shit like screaming disturbing things out at downtown bars or asking pretty girls to shoot you with your own gun. :)
Man seeks to escape himself in myth, and does so by any means at his disposal. Drugs, alcohol, or lies. Unable to withdraw into himself, he disguises himself. Lies and inaccuracy give him a few moments of comfort. ~ Jean Cocteau
Sunday, January 26, 2003
Change
Patterns. Repetition. Habit.
We wake up every morning, We shower, and we go to work. We work and we come home and eat. We do dishes or laundry. We watch TV or screw around online and then go to bed and do it all again. Over and over and over.
There are men and women who go to jobs they hate every day. And they come home to children and spouses who are strangers because they don't have time to spend with them because of these time consuming jobs that they hate. But they don't change it because it's the pattern that they have fallen into. There are women and men who go to sleep every night lonely because they also have fallen into the pattern of being alone. There are men who are no longer in love with their wives and women who are no longer in love with their husbands but they stay because they have so much time and effort invested. And because that is the pattern that they have fallen into.
There comes a time in all of our lives when we are ready for change...when we need to break the pattern. But we realize that change is difficult and painful to bring about in ourselves and our lives, especially when there are others involved.
We must die to one life before we can enter another. ~ Anatole France
Ice
A thin later of ice has formed over the river near my apartment. The snow that fell today and earlier this week has formed a pristine, white blanket over the ice. There are a few areas where the ice does not meet in the middle and the freezing waters reflect the iron grey of the sky. It's so beautiful and still and silent. I'd never seen a river freeze until now. And they say the cold is just beginning. :)
The ice is thin...come on dive in...underneath my lucid skin...the cold is lost...Forgotten. ~ Sarah McLachlan
Patterns. Repetition. Habit.
We wake up every morning, We shower, and we go to work. We work and we come home and eat. We do dishes or laundry. We watch TV or screw around online and then go to bed and do it all again. Over and over and over.
There are men and women who go to jobs they hate every day. And they come home to children and spouses who are strangers because they don't have time to spend with them because of these time consuming jobs that they hate. But they don't change it because it's the pattern that they have fallen into. There are women and men who go to sleep every night lonely because they also have fallen into the pattern of being alone. There are men who are no longer in love with their wives and women who are no longer in love with their husbands but they stay because they have so much time and effort invested. And because that is the pattern that they have fallen into.
There comes a time in all of our lives when we are ready for change...when we need to break the pattern. But we realize that change is difficult and painful to bring about in ourselves and our lives, especially when there are others involved.
We must die to one life before we can enter another. ~ Anatole France
Ice
A thin later of ice has formed over the river near my apartment. The snow that fell today and earlier this week has formed a pristine, white blanket over the ice. There are a few areas where the ice does not meet in the middle and the freezing waters reflect the iron grey of the sky. It's so beautiful and still and silent. I'd never seen a river freeze until now. And they say the cold is just beginning. :)
The ice is thin...come on dive in...underneath my lucid skin...the cold is lost...Forgotten. ~ Sarah McLachlan
Friday, January 24, 2003
I received a nickname today at work.
Patrick, Kevin, and Eric have decided to call me Aeon Flux...and I'm not really sure why. I certainly don't resemble the scantily clad spy and assassin. And I don’t die at the end of every workday so I’m not sure of how they made the connection.
I asked them if they planned on killing me every day and they paused for a moment. It was only a moment, but still…it was a pause. A considering pause. As if they were thinking, could we actually get away with arranging her death and then successfully resuscitating her daily?
Anyway, this led to a lengthy discussion of the Aeon Flux shorts from Liquid Television and now I’ve a desire to watch them all over again. I wonder if there exists somewhere an Aeon Flux DVD?
Other news…..
One of the counseling supervisors, Val, threw away my lunch today. She was cleaning out the fridge first thing this morning and decided to throw out anything that “looked old”. Well my chicken quesadillia from last night was a few hours old, I admit, but not old enough to be thrown away! When I confronted her she wasn’t in the slightest bit apologetic…and this pissed me off.
She just said: “Well people always bring stuff in and leave it and I was just cleaning the fridge out because I couldn’t fit my lunch in the fridge for all the shit other people had in there.”
And so I said: “But I just brought that in this morning…that was my lunch.”
And she continued to try and justify her action and remained defensive. I said “okay” and walked away…and then brought it up in a meeting with another supervisor later. I didn’t name names but just stated that the cleaning of the fridge needed to have policy made about it to avoid future problems such as the one I had experienced that morning. I suggested that it be cleaned out every Friday evening by which ever team was pulling cleanup duties that week.
Apparently gossip spreads through that place like wildfire and Val came to my office apologizing and gave me three bucks to make up for the lost lunch.
Too much drama!!! And the worst thing is that I know, even though she was all smiles at the end of the day, I’ve made an enemy. Drama.
Patrick, Kevin, and Eric have decided to call me Aeon Flux...and I'm not really sure why. I certainly don't resemble the scantily clad spy and assassin. And I don’t die at the end of every workday so I’m not sure of how they made the connection.
I asked them if they planned on killing me every day and they paused for a moment. It was only a moment, but still…it was a pause. A considering pause. As if they were thinking, could we actually get away with arranging her death and then successfully resuscitating her daily?
Anyway, this led to a lengthy discussion of the Aeon Flux shorts from Liquid Television and now I’ve a desire to watch them all over again. I wonder if there exists somewhere an Aeon Flux DVD?
Other news…..
One of the counseling supervisors, Val, threw away my lunch today. She was cleaning out the fridge first thing this morning and decided to throw out anything that “looked old”. Well my chicken quesadillia from last night was a few hours old, I admit, but not old enough to be thrown away! When I confronted her she wasn’t in the slightest bit apologetic…and this pissed me off.
She just said: “Well people always bring stuff in and leave it and I was just cleaning the fridge out because I couldn’t fit my lunch in the fridge for all the shit other people had in there.”
And so I said: “But I just brought that in this morning…that was my lunch.”
And she continued to try and justify her action and remained defensive. I said “okay” and walked away…and then brought it up in a meeting with another supervisor later. I didn’t name names but just stated that the cleaning of the fridge needed to have policy made about it to avoid future problems such as the one I had experienced that morning. I suggested that it be cleaned out every Friday evening by which ever team was pulling cleanup duties that week.
Apparently gossip spreads through that place like wildfire and Val came to my office apologizing and gave me three bucks to make up for the lost lunch.
Too much drama!!! And the worst thing is that I know, even though she was all smiles at the end of the day, I’ve made an enemy. Drama.
Wednesday, January 22, 2003
Jeepers but I was bleak yesterday! And yes Shawn, perhaps I was being a bit melodramatic. :) But...I don't know...maybe not. Nothing and I mean NOTHING could comfort me yesterday. I did, however, finally find peace after a night's sleep and another days hard work at the methadone clinic. :) So all's well that ends well and all that rot.
Better Than Yesterday
So...what exactly broke my gloom today? It certainly wasn't waking up to discover that I was already 23 minutes late for work. :) Yup, I overslept. Fun, fun, fun. But at work today I was actually able to make a difference! Yay! One of my patients had stopped attending the clinic and I called him last Friday to check up on him and to see if he intended to return. During our phone conversation I learned that his grandparents had been paying for his treatment and they could no longer afford to pay for the 2 and 1/2 hours of travel to the clinic daily. He had gradually taken his last few doses of methadone, and had eventually run out. He admitted to me that he had broken down a few days ago and purchased and snorted some Oxycontin because the withdrawal was too intense. I convinced him to return to the clinic and told him I would do everything in my power to help him. The important thing was that he return to treatment.
Well he came back yesterday and I attempted to get my Program Director to grant him exception take home doses considering his financial situation. No luck. I tried a few other things which all met with failure. That was one of the reasons I was so bummed yesterday. I promised someone that I could help them and the system didn't work like it was supposed to. Someone placed hope in me and I was unable to help them. That killed me.
Today I gave it one last shot. I decided to call and plead with the Program Director of a facility closer to his home and ask that he be allowed to transfer to that clinic. I knew that the clinic in question was filled to capacity and was accepting no new patients, however I thought it was worth a try. And it turns out that it was. The P.D. allowed me to send him up to be transfered. The kid will now only have to drive 30 minutes to treatment vs. the 2 and 1/2 hours he was driving to our clinic. The important thing is that he will be in treatment and not out buying and doing shit off the street. :) And that was my little victory today. Yes it's a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. :)
One of my co-workers asked me to be in his band after overhearing me singing in the chart room. The "band", which as of yet only has 4 members (two singers, a drummer, and a pianist/keyboard player) and has yet to play anywhere, is called Midget in a Box. I said yes because the name is so fucking cool. :) And because it would be hilarious to be the gigantic front woman of a band called Midget in a Box! It's just going to be a cover band, but cover bands get paid for playing. And if I'm a member of that cover band I would get paid for doing something I really enjoy doing. Groovy. :) It'll probably never come to be, but it's a fun idea to entertain.
I received an invitation to apply to grad school at Northwestern State University in Louisiana. I don't know jack-shit about this school but I might apply for kicks...although I'm not that nuts about moving that far from the people that I love. The university is located in a town called Natchitoches, Louisiana. It took me 5 tries to pronounce the town name properly (or at least in a way I am assuming is proper). Now how the hell am I supposed to live in a town when I can't even pronounce the town name? People would ask me where I live and I'd have to give them my zip code! :) "Hello! Me? Oh, I live in 71497. And you?"
Better Than Yesterday
So...what exactly broke my gloom today? It certainly wasn't waking up to discover that I was already 23 minutes late for work. :) Yup, I overslept. Fun, fun, fun. But at work today I was actually able to make a difference! Yay! One of my patients had stopped attending the clinic and I called him last Friday to check up on him and to see if he intended to return. During our phone conversation I learned that his grandparents had been paying for his treatment and they could no longer afford to pay for the 2 and 1/2 hours of travel to the clinic daily. He had gradually taken his last few doses of methadone, and had eventually run out. He admitted to me that he had broken down a few days ago and purchased and snorted some Oxycontin because the withdrawal was too intense. I convinced him to return to the clinic and told him I would do everything in my power to help him. The important thing was that he return to treatment.
Well he came back yesterday and I attempted to get my Program Director to grant him exception take home doses considering his financial situation. No luck. I tried a few other things which all met with failure. That was one of the reasons I was so bummed yesterday. I promised someone that I could help them and the system didn't work like it was supposed to. Someone placed hope in me and I was unable to help them. That killed me.
Today I gave it one last shot. I decided to call and plead with the Program Director of a facility closer to his home and ask that he be allowed to transfer to that clinic. I knew that the clinic in question was filled to capacity and was accepting no new patients, however I thought it was worth a try. And it turns out that it was. The P.D. allowed me to send him up to be transfered. The kid will now only have to drive 30 minutes to treatment vs. the 2 and 1/2 hours he was driving to our clinic. The important thing is that he will be in treatment and not out buying and doing shit off the street. :) And that was my little victory today. Yes it's a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. :)
One of my co-workers asked me to be in his band after overhearing me singing in the chart room. The "band", which as of yet only has 4 members (two singers, a drummer, and a pianist/keyboard player) and has yet to play anywhere, is called Midget in a Box. I said yes because the name is so fucking cool. :) And because it would be hilarious to be the gigantic front woman of a band called Midget in a Box! It's just going to be a cover band, but cover bands get paid for playing. And if I'm a member of that cover band I would get paid for doing something I really enjoy doing. Groovy. :) It'll probably never come to be, but it's a fun idea to entertain.
I received an invitation to apply to grad school at Northwestern State University in Louisiana. I don't know jack-shit about this school but I might apply for kicks...although I'm not that nuts about moving that far from the people that I love. The university is located in a town called Natchitoches, Louisiana. It took me 5 tries to pronounce the town name properly (or at least in a way I am assuming is proper). Now how the hell am I supposed to live in a town when I can't even pronounce the town name? People would ask me where I live and I'd have to give them my zip code! :) "Hello! Me? Oh, I live in 71497. And you?"
Tuesday, January 21, 2003
I'm going to keep this short...because I'm too exhausted to write much...but I feel the need to write something.
Today was a stressful day. I'm still stressed and it's 9:25PM and I'm dreading my return to work tomorrow.
Right now I just want someone to hold me and tell me that it's going to be okay...and I want to believe them.
When I was a child my mother would comfort me in this way. But it doesn't seem to work anymore. Because I don't have enough faith in anybody or anything right now to believe it.
Today was a stressful day. I'm still stressed and it's 9:25PM and I'm dreading my return to work tomorrow.
Right now I just want someone to hold me and tell me that it's going to be okay...and I want to believe them.
When I was a child my mother would comfort me in this way. But it doesn't seem to work anymore. Because I don't have enough faith in anybody or anything right now to believe it.
Thursday, January 16, 2003
Little did I know, when I last blogged, how strongly Disease had sunk her claws into me. Little did I know that I would end up leaving many offerings for the Porcelaine Goddess before the next day was through.
I was sick all Tuesday morning and Ben got worried and made me go to the doctor. I tried to tell him that it was a waste of money as I was sure that I just had two nasty viruses that hit me at once. He would not concede. So anyway I waited two hours at Health Plus for a doctor to tell me that I had two viruses stacked on top of each other. How terribly insightful! He gave me a shot in my hip for the nausea and sent me on my way...after charging me $117.
Yesterday I tried to get up to go to work but the world starting spinning half-way through my shower. I decided it was probably best to rest and get a little more hydrated before galavanting off again. After all, I didn't need another disease stacked on top of the overwhelming two that I already had accumulated.
Today I actually managed to make it back to work. (I even worked two hours over because I'm just that psycho and pathetic!) And upon my return I was confronted with one of the saddest, most shocking, and thought provoking scenarios that I've encountered in quite some time. But in order for the story to have full effect I suppose I should start from the beginning.
One of my patients, whom we'll call Alice, came to see me for the first time a few weeks ago. She was very upset because she had been downphased or had lost all of her take home doses. Take home doses are a privilege patients earn over time at the clinic by displaying good behavior, good attendance, and by providing clean urine drug screens. Alice had earned 6 take home doses and only had to attend the clinic once per week. Well, that is until she returned to the clinic one week with some pertinent information scratched off of the labels of her bottles. This is considered tampering and is a big no-no with methadone and can be indicative of diversion/selling of medication. She had had a previous offense of loss of one of her bottles and so she was deemed unworthy of the clinic's trust and all of her take home privileges were removed.
So Alice threw a temper tantrum in my office and demanded that I give her take home doses back and all I could do was explain to her why they were removed and tell her to live with it. She stated that she didn't know how she would manage to hold her job with this inconvenience, that he life was ruined etc. Anyway a few days before the New Year, she came to me and apologized for acting as she did and then she told me that she'd had a premonition. Now this is where it gets weird. She said that she had a feeling that she was going to be involved in a car accident and she wanted to make sure that her parents could gain access to her records if she were killed or severely injured. I told her that she could sign a release of information allowing her parents access to her records and she was pleased and told me that she would do it on the following day.
Well she didn't come back to see me that week and I assumed she had forgotten. But after returning back to work on January 6th, I learned that she had been involved in an auto accident on January 3rd. Creepy, eh? She was hospitalized for 12 days and she returned to the clinic today. The program director paged me to his office half-way through the morning and I thought, "Oh god, what now! Did I screw up or something? Am I in trouble?" I walked up to his office and there in his office was Alice, and she looked great except that she now only had one arm. I tried not to look but my eyes were drawn to the new stump. I said, "Oh, Alice! I'd heard you were in an accident! I'm glad to see you back." I was thinking, "Oh my god, you've lost your arm! How can you be so brave and smiling?"
And she was brave and smiling. She greeted me with a gentle smile and a peace that I really couldn't understand. How could she not be angry and crying and in the torture that I imagine I would be in if I were in her situation? As I talked with her she told me of how she had been riding home from the clinic with a friend when the car hydroplaned and flipped three times. Her arm was nearly cut off and she would have bled to death if it had not been for her friend ripping off his t-shirt and doing his best to stop the flow of blood. She survived and they tried to save her arm, but eventually gangrene set in and that was that. She told me that even though it seemed she had lost so much she had gained so much more because she had given her life to God. She said that she had been happier over the past two weeks (in spite of the loss of an appendage) than she had in her entire life. And she was so at peace and so accepting and so happy! It blew my mind! She said that she figured she had strayed so far from God that he needed something really drastic to get her attention. With her drug use she had thought that she was as low as she could go, but apparently she was not. She grew even happier when I informed her that she'll be able to transfer to a clinic closer to her home more quickly because of the fact that she was downphased (lost her take home doses) last month. Her reply was, "The Lord works in mysterious ways."
The whole situation is so strange to me. Now I've been around religious people my entire life. My mother and grandmother used to blame all the misfortunes they encountered on Satan trying to hinder them and they attributed all fortunate things to God and his protection. When trying to make sense of Alice's happiness and peace, my first thought was along the lines that she's clutching on to her faith in God to help her handle this situation...to keep her from going insane. She needs to believe right now that things happen for a reason, so she can go on and not be a bitter person due to losing her arm. One might look at the situation and note that she might have never lost her arm if it weren't for the loss of her take home doses, because she probably wouldn't have been traveling that particular stretch of road at that time on that day if it weren't for that. In the end we could determine that she just had a really shitty string of luck. But I find myself not wanting to believe that...because it's such a lonely and cruel way for things to be. My mother would probably say, "How do you know that she wouldn't have been involved in an accident with the same result if she traveled any road that day? Perhaps it was just meant to be?" Perhaps. But we can never know for certain. And that's where that thing called faith comes in. That thing that I don't have much of anymore.
I was commenting to Shawn when he was in this past weekend that I feel something missing inside of me. And that missing piece is belief. I don't know what I believe anymore. Maturity and my college education taught me to question everything and so I pulled every belief I held apart. Eventually I was left with believing in only things that I could see or that were verifiable...but those things tend to lend no comfort and no peace. And I find myself wanting comfort and peace.
I was sick all Tuesday morning and Ben got worried and made me go to the doctor. I tried to tell him that it was a waste of money as I was sure that I just had two nasty viruses that hit me at once. He would not concede. So anyway I waited two hours at Health Plus for a doctor to tell me that I had two viruses stacked on top of each other. How terribly insightful! He gave me a shot in my hip for the nausea and sent me on my way...after charging me $117.
Yesterday I tried to get up to go to work but the world starting spinning half-way through my shower. I decided it was probably best to rest and get a little more hydrated before galavanting off again. After all, I didn't need another disease stacked on top of the overwhelming two that I already had accumulated.
Today I actually managed to make it back to work. (I even worked two hours over because I'm just that psycho and pathetic!) And upon my return I was confronted with one of the saddest, most shocking, and thought provoking scenarios that I've encountered in quite some time. But in order for the story to have full effect I suppose I should start from the beginning.
One of my patients, whom we'll call Alice, came to see me for the first time a few weeks ago. She was very upset because she had been downphased or had lost all of her take home doses. Take home doses are a privilege patients earn over time at the clinic by displaying good behavior, good attendance, and by providing clean urine drug screens. Alice had earned 6 take home doses and only had to attend the clinic once per week. Well, that is until she returned to the clinic one week with some pertinent information scratched off of the labels of her bottles. This is considered tampering and is a big no-no with methadone and can be indicative of diversion/selling of medication. She had had a previous offense of loss of one of her bottles and so she was deemed unworthy of the clinic's trust and all of her take home privileges were removed.
So Alice threw a temper tantrum in my office and demanded that I give her take home doses back and all I could do was explain to her why they were removed and tell her to live with it. She stated that she didn't know how she would manage to hold her job with this inconvenience, that he life was ruined etc. Anyway a few days before the New Year, she came to me and apologized for acting as she did and then she told me that she'd had a premonition. Now this is where it gets weird. She said that she had a feeling that she was going to be involved in a car accident and she wanted to make sure that her parents could gain access to her records if she were killed or severely injured. I told her that she could sign a release of information allowing her parents access to her records and she was pleased and told me that she would do it on the following day.
Well she didn't come back to see me that week and I assumed she had forgotten. But after returning back to work on January 6th, I learned that she had been involved in an auto accident on January 3rd. Creepy, eh? She was hospitalized for 12 days and she returned to the clinic today. The program director paged me to his office half-way through the morning and I thought, "Oh god, what now! Did I screw up or something? Am I in trouble?" I walked up to his office and there in his office was Alice, and she looked great except that she now only had one arm. I tried not to look but my eyes were drawn to the new stump. I said, "Oh, Alice! I'd heard you were in an accident! I'm glad to see you back." I was thinking, "Oh my god, you've lost your arm! How can you be so brave and smiling?"
And she was brave and smiling. She greeted me with a gentle smile and a peace that I really couldn't understand. How could she not be angry and crying and in the torture that I imagine I would be in if I were in her situation? As I talked with her she told me of how she had been riding home from the clinic with a friend when the car hydroplaned and flipped three times. Her arm was nearly cut off and she would have bled to death if it had not been for her friend ripping off his t-shirt and doing his best to stop the flow of blood. She survived and they tried to save her arm, but eventually gangrene set in and that was that. She told me that even though it seemed she had lost so much she had gained so much more because she had given her life to God. She said that she had been happier over the past two weeks (in spite of the loss of an appendage) than she had in her entire life. And she was so at peace and so accepting and so happy! It blew my mind! She said that she figured she had strayed so far from God that he needed something really drastic to get her attention. With her drug use she had thought that she was as low as she could go, but apparently she was not. She grew even happier when I informed her that she'll be able to transfer to a clinic closer to her home more quickly because of the fact that she was downphased (lost her take home doses) last month. Her reply was, "The Lord works in mysterious ways."
The whole situation is so strange to me. Now I've been around religious people my entire life. My mother and grandmother used to blame all the misfortunes they encountered on Satan trying to hinder them and they attributed all fortunate things to God and his protection. When trying to make sense of Alice's happiness and peace, my first thought was along the lines that she's clutching on to her faith in God to help her handle this situation...to keep her from going insane. She needs to believe right now that things happen for a reason, so she can go on and not be a bitter person due to losing her arm. One might look at the situation and note that she might have never lost her arm if it weren't for the loss of her take home doses, because she probably wouldn't have been traveling that particular stretch of road at that time on that day if it weren't for that. In the end we could determine that she just had a really shitty string of luck. But I find myself not wanting to believe that...because it's such a lonely and cruel way for things to be. My mother would probably say, "How do you know that she wouldn't have been involved in an accident with the same result if she traveled any road that day? Perhaps it was just meant to be?" Perhaps. But we can never know for certain. And that's where that thing called faith comes in. That thing that I don't have much of anymore.
I was commenting to Shawn when he was in this past weekend that I feel something missing inside of me. And that missing piece is belief. I don't know what I believe anymore. Maturity and my college education taught me to question everything and so I pulled every belief I held apart. Eventually I was left with believing in only things that I could see or that were verifiable...but those things tend to lend no comfort and no peace. And I find myself wanting comfort and peace.
Monday, January 13, 2003
Yes, my friends. Disease still runs rampant through this vessel like so many evil flem gremlins at play. She fills my lungs with mucus and wracks my body with coughing and pain.
Ever since I got back from Lexington I’ve had the nastiest cough known to mankind. I kid you not, I actually had a 45-minute coughing session at work during which the entire staff got concerned and the program director came to my side and was rubbing my back. Talk about embarrassing.
So now the cold that was beneficial in covering my ass and convincing my employers and co-workers that I truly was ill last Monday and Tuesday when I decided to skip work to be with my friends, has become a pain in the neck. Literally.
Ben keeps telling me that he thinks it’s something more serious than a cold and keeps tossing up tuberculosis as the possible diagnosis. I’m not coughing up blood yet, but there’s always tomorrow. :)
So I’m sitting here at my keyboard in my nightshirt and big, fluffy man’s robe with my heater blazing at my feet just letting the tiredness wash over me. Unwinding. My {Dsmbr by Linkin Park is playing softly on Windows Media Player and I can feel my eyes growing heavier.
This is my December, These are my snow covered dreams
This is me pretending, this is all I need
And right now I’m not gonna think about all the bills I need to pay tomorrow. And right now I’m not gonna think about all the debts that are owed to me and the debts that I owe. And I’m not gonna worry about the future. I’m just going to be here as I am and love this moment of tired, peaceful solitude.
Ever since I got back from Lexington I’ve had the nastiest cough known to mankind. I kid you not, I actually had a 45-minute coughing session at work during which the entire staff got concerned and the program director came to my side and was rubbing my back. Talk about embarrassing.
So now the cold that was beneficial in covering my ass and convincing my employers and co-workers that I truly was ill last Monday and Tuesday when I decided to skip work to be with my friends, has become a pain in the neck. Literally.
Ben keeps telling me that he thinks it’s something more serious than a cold and keeps tossing up tuberculosis as the possible diagnosis. I’m not coughing up blood yet, but there’s always tomorrow. :)
So I’m sitting here at my keyboard in my nightshirt and big, fluffy man’s robe with my heater blazing at my feet just letting the tiredness wash over me. Unwinding. My {Dsmbr by Linkin Park is playing softly on Windows Media Player and I can feel my eyes growing heavier.
This is my December, These are my snow covered dreams
This is me pretending, this is all I need
And right now I’m not gonna think about all the bills I need to pay tomorrow. And right now I’m not gonna think about all the debts that are owed to me and the debts that I owe. And I’m not gonna worry about the future. I’m just going to be here as I am and love this moment of tired, peaceful solitude.
Wednesday, January 01, 2003
And so comes the New Year.
Here I am surrounded by my friends and feeling fairly content. And fairly dehydrated. :) To celebrate the New Year, I consumed a wee bit too much alcohol last night. :) There are huge blank spots in my memory and frankly, I'm glad. My behavior during those moments was reportedly atrocious. I was told that I insulted my boyfriend's sexual prowess, yelled at people, and was generally a bitch. I'm so embarrassed! I've never blacked out like that before. I've done stupid things in the past when I've been drunk, but I've always fucking remembered it! But this? This is scary shit.
So I spent the entire morning learning of all of the nasty things I'd said and done throughout the course of the night and repeatedly apologizing for them. I feel so horrible! Another reason why I don't really drink all that often anymore. I don't like losing control over my actions. I don't like waking up with drunken unknown injuries, also known as DUIs. :) In the future I'm going to reach that nice buzz level and stay there. No more of this crazy drink all you can shit.
Of course, the drinking games that we played were a factor in that. High - Low and Fuck the Dealer got me fucked up real quick like. Never again. Or at least not for a very long time. :)
But it wasn't all bitchiness and badness. There was a lot of hilarity and actually a very nice emotional bonding session in the morning. Poor sappy drunks coming down off of their highs discussing the celebration of Christmas, religion, family, logic, death, and the necessity of belief in something. It was an enlightening conversation. And I was reminded of something very important this morning. I need to respect the requests of others...I need to not be so selfish as to force my desires upon others. Everyone has the right to chose their own path and the purest act of love and caring is to not hinder a person in his or her chosen path. I will not forget this again.
As for New Years resolutions...a couple of my friends refuse to make them. Perhaps theirs is the right way of thinking. How often have I accomplished a New Year's resolution? I can't even recall. They're simply promises...promises that you make to yourself. Do I really need another broken promise in my life? No. But I'm still making a resolution. I'm just going to keep this promise this time. Well...promises actually. Resolution # 1: I'm going to lose all of the Taco Bell and McDonald's and Pizza Hut that's hanging on around my waist and thighs. Resolution # 2: I'm going to learn to play the guitar simply because I want to. Resolution # 3: I'm going to find myself again and make peace with who I am. Resolution # 4: I'm going to pick my path...and not simply stumble along blindly as I have been doing for the past several years.
So now there's a written record of my resolutions. If I fail there are some that will know and will perhaps hold me accountable. And these things may not be attainable within one years time...but I will try.
Here's to friends, family, and the future. My wish is for a new year full of stimulation, growth, positive change, as much happiness as possible, and as much pain as necessary to teach us all what it is that we need to learn. And so it begins...
Here I am surrounded by my friends and feeling fairly content. And fairly dehydrated. :) To celebrate the New Year, I consumed a wee bit too much alcohol last night. :) There are huge blank spots in my memory and frankly, I'm glad. My behavior during those moments was reportedly atrocious. I was told that I insulted my boyfriend's sexual prowess, yelled at people, and was generally a bitch. I'm so embarrassed! I've never blacked out like that before. I've done stupid things in the past when I've been drunk, but I've always fucking remembered it! But this? This is scary shit.
So I spent the entire morning learning of all of the nasty things I'd said and done throughout the course of the night and repeatedly apologizing for them. I feel so horrible! Another reason why I don't really drink all that often anymore. I don't like losing control over my actions. I don't like waking up with drunken unknown injuries, also known as DUIs. :) In the future I'm going to reach that nice buzz level and stay there. No more of this crazy drink all you can shit.
Of course, the drinking games that we played were a factor in that. High - Low and Fuck the Dealer got me fucked up real quick like. Never again. Or at least not for a very long time. :)
But it wasn't all bitchiness and badness. There was a lot of hilarity and actually a very nice emotional bonding session in the morning. Poor sappy drunks coming down off of their highs discussing the celebration of Christmas, religion, family, logic, death, and the necessity of belief in something. It was an enlightening conversation. And I was reminded of something very important this morning. I need to respect the requests of others...I need to not be so selfish as to force my desires upon others. Everyone has the right to chose their own path and the purest act of love and caring is to not hinder a person in his or her chosen path. I will not forget this again.
As for New Years resolutions...a couple of my friends refuse to make them. Perhaps theirs is the right way of thinking. How often have I accomplished a New Year's resolution? I can't even recall. They're simply promises...promises that you make to yourself. Do I really need another broken promise in my life? No. But I'm still making a resolution. I'm just going to keep this promise this time. Well...promises actually. Resolution # 1: I'm going to lose all of the Taco Bell and McDonald's and Pizza Hut that's hanging on around my waist and thighs. Resolution # 2: I'm going to learn to play the guitar simply because I want to. Resolution # 3: I'm going to find myself again and make peace with who I am. Resolution # 4: I'm going to pick my path...and not simply stumble along blindly as I have been doing for the past several years.
So now there's a written record of my resolutions. If I fail there are some that will know and will perhaps hold me accountable. And these things may not be attainable within one years time...but I will try.
Here's to friends, family, and the future. My wish is for a new year full of stimulation, growth, positive change, as much happiness as possible, and as much pain as necessary to teach us all what it is that we need to learn. And so it begins...
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