My dealer, my ‘friend’, my friend with benefits, the guy who I used, the guy who used me; he got arrested. I wasn’t in any immediate panic as I had just bought a bottle of fifty 80mg Oxys. I knew I had time. But nothing lasts forever. It was December 29th 2010 and I was running low, it had been about a month since the arrest. I figured this was my time to quit, I could get clean. I started researching methadone clinics close by. I found a government methadone clinic that wasn’t too far and I decided to take a drive and get it sorted out. When I arrived I felt like all eyes were on me, everyone in that plaza, in that parking lot knew who I was and what I was doing. They looked down at me, like I was an animal. I didn’t deserve respect because I was a low life. As I entered the glass door I noticed the place was empty for the exception of a few nurses and receptionists. Immediately I wanted to run but before I could I was approached by a kind nurse asking if I needed help. Of course I needed help! The withdrawals were coming with a vengeance and they could see it. I filled out a stack of paperwork and had to have a medical evaluation. I thought great! I will walk out of here with a prescription that could potentially save my life, I thought I would have a good new year, and I would be fine to go out for my brother’s birthday. Everything was falling into place and I had a sense of relief. After a 45 minute medical evaluation I was told to go have a seat in the waiting room. Eventually I was called up to the reception desk which was behind a glass window; like a prison. I was told they would put me on a waiting list and I would be called when they had the space for me. I turned white, I started to cry, I was embarrassed, and I was scared. A waiting list, I asked how long? They told me that they didn’t know, it could be a month, a year.
I walked out of that office shaking, crying, cold, hot, and empty. I felt defeated. If they couldn’t help me, who could? I could barely help myself. My options were slim, I desperately called every dealer I knew, I asked anyone and everyone; frantically. I didn’t want my parents to find out that I was using again. I knew the withdrawals were going to be bad. I had used every single day all day for almost 9 months; I hadn’t gone an hour without. Now I had nothing.
I was sitting at the dinner table on January 2nd 2011; it was my brother’s birthday. My parents asked me if I was feeling okay. I said I thought I was getting the flu. Within an hour my face was turning grey, my arm was turning blue and I couldn’t breathe properly. It was time, I had to tell them. We left for the hospital; my heart had stopped pumping blood to the rest of my body. I felt nothing but guilt and shame, it was my brother’s birthday and I had managed to ruin it. I took everything from him, everything was always about me, and my parents were always focused on me. He already resented me enough, and I couldn’t apologize. I had managed to ruin everything, again and it wouldn’t be the last time.
A vicious cycle; I couldn’t get methadone, I was on a waiting list. So what was I supposed to do? I had to get drugs. Luckily after a while I found a private clinic which happens to be my family doctor who runs an addiction clinic. I was lucky, others aren’t.