Trying To Catch A Breath…….

My road to well is marred with lots of pits of pain and maladies to which I can not truly speak to now that I am thirteen months into my recovery, but I will do my best to recall the acute pain I endured and  suffered on my road to someplace I know chose to call WELL.

I left the hospital on Match 18th, 2K17 on day after I swallowed my last phenobarbital dose to relieve me of fatal seizures I would have died from coming off of 10 mg of Xanax a day. That last pill I swallowed was extremely monumental in my short stint into my recovery from severe pharmaceutical use over the past twelve years of my life. I remember not swallowing the last “pheno\” pill and instead putting it on my tray table and staring at it intently, knowing full well once I ingested it, it would be the last of the mind-altering pills I had so gleefully consumed for the last twelve years with knowledge my gig was up as I chose this unknowing path of a new life that would no longer include refill days of the likes I don’t think most hardcore users were used to seeing: at the height of refill days just weeks before  my decision to get clean, I was picking up upwards of 510 mini-mental mndfuckers at the pharmacy.  This was a combination of 150 2 mg Xanax, 120 30 mg Adderall, 120 10 mg Hydrocodone, 60 10 mg Valium, and 30 10 mg Ambien-how I was allowed to legally walk out of the pharmacy with such a stockpile is still a mystery I should probably dial back and figure out when I am a bit more well than I am now.

So you can imagine why I lingered and did not hastily swallow that last “pheno” pill. The nurse was so happy to be done with me she remarked, “Here is your last pill!” Not exactly the thing you say to an addict just embarking on the path of recovery…..but hey it was just another faux pas to be added to the long list of lunacies I experienced in my stay in the hospital…….

I finally swallowed that last pill which is captured on my phone as a lonely image of a tiny white pill against a stainless steel background, No, I don’t have any pictures of the pile of 510 pills I received on refill day. Boy, what I wouldn’t do to have a picture of that heap of irresponsible healthcare I experienced as an end user…

So back to March 18th, 2K17, I finally had reached the end of the medical detox line and was deemed medically fit to leave the hospital and embark on the harrowing next stage of my life that would forever alter me in all ways possible; mentally, physically and spiritually.

Before I left I met with a psychiatrist who spoke to me at length about my detox and how serious my recovery would be. He put it best by telling me my detox was a brain injury like one experiences when they get hit in the head with a baseball bat. He told me I was seriously sick and the next year would be long and hard. I was already dazed and confused so it would be a long time before his words would mean anything to me.

I left the hospital and  went  with Stephanie right to the pharmacy to get four blood pressure medications filled and a couple other medications including a pile of 800 mg Neurontin-yes the medication addict’s are now turning to for a new high, yes that medication… seriously Neurontin is not even a controlled substance yet but if you Google it the first thing that bops up is “Neurontin high.” Whatever healthcare profession, you still can’t get anything right! So I left with another new bag of pills on my first day in recovery.

I finally got home and had all I could do to get right into bed and start flopping around from the withdrawals that were just settling in. Hell I had no fucking idea what I was about to go through for the next year of my life…….