Wednesday, August 26, 2009

my memoir for english class

its kinda dark... maybe? it depeneds on what you think is dark. i ended up having a really tough time writing about this. so here goes nothing....

The first time I tried Oxycodone I knew it was the drug for me. After ten minutes of taking one pill, I felt my tongue numb. This beautiful numbness expanded to my entire mouth. I next felt my hands lighten, soon my whole body felt lighter and out of control. It was almost as if I knew I had this different feeling than anyone else could possibly have, this high was one only that I could experience. I had never in my life felt so in control by being so out of control.

I should probably start from when I took my first painkiller in the first place. I had been receiving toe nail surgerys to remove parts of my nail bed. People are generally shocked by the fact such expensive and extensive procedures can be done for ones big two nails, but trust me you would be surprised. Its truly surprising how much you actually need your big toes to walk properly. So when I started getting ingrown toe nails, you could only imagine how difficult it was to complete my day to day activities. When I went to the doctors I then discovered that they were a rare form of reverse ingrown toe nails where my toe nails were growing out from the bottom, splitting my skin. I was completely numbed during the procedure, and after it was all said and done, I was prescribed Hydrocodone.

The Hydrocodone definitely did the job it was supposed to do. My feet had a numb, light feeling about them. I felt a little loopy and things just seemed to be funnier. I did like these pills, but I truly wish I would have stopped there. My next visit to the doctor ruined everything. I had ran out of my Hydrocodone the night before, and when the doctor asked how the pain was I was honest and explained how that day my foot had been ringing all day, due to my meds being gone. He prescribed a much higher dose of something I had never even heard of called Lortab. I took two when I got home and turned on the television. The next hours are hazy. I remember a few people coming in and out to visit me, but I soon fell asleep. When I woke up my house was a mess and food was made on the stove, and there were dirty dishes in the sink. I had just experienced my first black out.

You would think that after a loss of control such as this, taking these pills for recreational purposes would be the last thing I would do. But no, that was not the case. I really enjoyed the fact that it was a different me. At the time I had just moved out of my house, I had just had a really messy end to a long relationship, and I was truly depressed in its broadest definition. I liked the way that I could take a pill and just feel lighter, just feel giggly. I liked this feeling until about three hours after I taken it. That was when I started to come down from the high. Coming down from a painkiller high is one of the worst experiences ever. It is literally a feeling of worthlessness and a feeling that makes you so angry at everyone yet you do not know why. I lashed out on people I loved and cared about, I said very awful things I can never take back. I lost friends, yet I did not stop there. It only got worse.

This is the part of the whole ordeal where I started to actually not be prescribed pills anymore. I found a friend, who for so many reasons I will refer to as X, who was starting to deal. His dad was a doctor and he would sneak a few pills from his father’s office whenever he got a chance. This was the first time I was introduced to Oxycodone. It is not as strong as the painkiller you hear of for surgeries like Oxycontin, but it was only a few steps away. As I explained in my first paragraph I was instantly hooked on this “magic” pill. Oxycodone truly is anything but magic though. One thing I liked about the pill high is even though it was extremely obvious I was high at school, I could still get away with it. Teachers just still assumed I was on painkillers for my toe surgeries. I was helpless at school once I started Oxycodone. I wouldn’t do any work, I would make friends do stuff for me, I would float around school not knowing what was going on, and worst off I would lash out when I was coming down from highs.

I remember an experience where X did not have any Oxycodone one Friday but he had something called Percocet which was at a much higher dosage. I bought two then and there, I crushed them up in the bathroom and snorted them at school, on the bathroom sink. I did not heed X’s warning on to not take them both in the same hour. Once I got back to class I felt sick. I passed out on the way to the nurse’s office and woke up lying in the nurse’s bed. Apparently I got up and walked myself to the nurse’s office, that’s why they did not call the EMT, but of course, this part was blacked out. It was now the weekend and I had no Oxycodone. Yes, that’s right, I still wanted more. I basically just told myself I was allergic to Percocet, and that it had nothing to do with my hook in general.

That next Saturday I had no pills. I had no idea what to do, I felt so empty. I had been having the same high for the past month. I was going through a slight withdrawal. That’s when I found a tube of air duster. I knew this was the worst idea but I was obsessed with that feeling of being high. I put the straw in my nose and held the trigger. It felt as if my brain was getting smaller. The high was nothing like a painkiller high and the come down was unfortunately so much worth. I trashed my room, I couldn’t stop crying. How had I possibly sunk this low? I used to be an honors student with a good home life. Here I was, failing my junior year, not speaking to my mother, did not realize why I was so sad, and searching for any high possible. I saw a lighter on my bed stand. I flicked the switch and watched the flame rise up. I loved how blurry the blue at the end of the flame was. I loved how this flame was shining through all my tears. I held it too my arm. I held it there, even though I could obviously feel it. I did not even feel pain, I felt sadness. The sadness, how could I be doing this? I was the kind of person I could not stand, with a pretty good life compared to some people and I was burning my flesh. I could smell the skin on my left arm boiling up. A blister formed immediately and bust on sight, flicking out the flame. That’s when the reality set in.

I had a huge bandage on my left arm the next week at school and told everyone it was a burn from an oven. My dad did not believe me but all he thought was a friend did it on accident with a cigarette. I still think that he was just pretending to be that naïve. I finally got some more Oxycodone that day. I quickly ran in the bathroom and crushed some up and snorted it. I loved the slight burn I felt as it entered my nose passage, and then the smooth taste it left in the back of my throat. I drank some water and went to class. I had an amazing high, but became very paranoid. It seemed as if people were onto me, since I had been this high for about a month. My paranoid actions caused me to take the deodorant out of my deodorant stick and place the bag of pills and straw inside, tightly replacing the cap. I believe this was god giving me my last chance. That was the day I was one minute from being caught.

Literally one minute after I had done this, three administrators came to my door and grabbed me and my stuff. I was actually asleep and high when they came, no surprise at all. They asked me many questions and gave me an extremely uncomfortable search. While searching my stuff, the administrator actually held my pills in his hand without even knowing it, via the deodorant stick. It was such a scary experience seeing him hold it and then placing it down. That was my official wake up call. If I would have gotten caught, I would have had all my chances ripped even more down.

I realized that just because everything in my life at the moment seemed to be going downhill without my control, I myself had the power to control this. I could choose my destiny at this point. I was only making it worse, and I had spent too many nights crying to basically give up like this. My problem with pills was fueled by my ability to not control my current situation; I felt I can now control how I feel with these pills. But nothing like that can last forever, I am so glad I got my wakeup call when I did. I will always have that memory though, of getting to a point to burn my own flesh just so I could get the same feeling of control as the pills gave me. And I will always have that scar on my left arm, to remind me of the past. To remind me of when I truly was out of my own control.

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