Cravings

Like I wrote in the "Several Years Later" post, I occasionally get cravings and think about getting high. After so many years of not using, it would probably feel amazing. But those good feelings won't last long. What will last will be the obsession, using once then thinking about it constantly then being right back out there.

I wanted to use yesterday. Being a single mom, my life is usually pretty stressful. Between not being able to find a job and having my kids almost constantly, I want to rip my hair out most days. I was close to texting Jim yesterday to tell him to come get the kids because I was going to go get a bag. Luckily, no matter how stressed I am, the thoughts don't last long. The key for me is, and always has been, to keep my hands busy, specifically my hands. I like to make things, whether it's sewing something or cooking, knitting or crocheting, or even writing, if my hands are busy, I'm usually okay.

We all have stressors and triggers. We just need to figure out what they are and how to avoid them. Or, if it's impossible to avoid, we just need to learn how to work around them. I've found my way. Do my ways always work for me? No, but when one method fails, I try the next.

My Name is Heroin

I found this poem years ago, before I started using heroin. I always knew how addicting and deadly it could be but I guess I just didn't care. I think one reason why it took me so long to try it is because I knew how much I would like it. I was right. I don't know who the original author of this poem is but everyone should read it. It's completely, 100% true.

I destroy homes, tear families apart
Take your children, and that's just the start
I'm more costly than diamonds, more costly than gold
The sorrow I bring is a sight to behold

If you need me, remember, I'm easily found
I live all around you, in schools and in town
I live with the rich, I live with the poor
I live down the street, and maybe next door

My power is awesome, try me, you'll see
But if you do, you may never break free
Just try me once and I might let you go
But try me twice and I'll own your soul

When I possess you, you'll steal and you'll lie
You'll do what you have to, just to get high
The crimes you'll commit for my narcotic charm
Will be worth all the pleasure you'll feel in your arm

You'll lie to your mother, you'll steal from your dad
When you see their tears, you should feel sad
But you'll forget your morals, and how you were raised
I'll be your conscience, I'll teach you my ways

I take kids from parents, and parents from kids
I turn people from god and separate friends
I'll take everything from you, your looks and your pride
I'll be with you always, right by your side

You'll give up everything, your family, your home
You friends and your money, then you'll be alone
I'll take and I'll take til you have nothing more to give
When I'm finished with you, you'll be lucky to live

If you try me, be warned, this is no game
If given the chance, I'll drive you insane
I'll ravish your body, I'll control your mind
I'll own you completely, your soul will be mind

The nightmares I'll give you while laying in bed
The voices you'll hear from inside your head
The sweats and the shakes, the visions you'll see
I want you to know, they're all gifts from me

By then, it's too late and you'll know in your heart
That you are now mine and we shall not part
You'll regret that you tried me, they always do
But you came to me, not I to you

You knew this would happen, many times you were told
But you challenged my power and chose to be bold
You could have said no and just walked away
If you could live that day over, what would you say?

I'll be your master and you'll be my slave
I'll even go with you when you go to your grave
Now that you've met me, what will you do?
Will you try me or not? It's all up to you

I can bring you more misery than words can tell
Come take my hand, let me lead you to hell

Several Years Later

It's been nearly 2½ years since my last post. So much has happened. Jim got on methadone in September, 2012. He still used for a few weeks after beginning treatment. He's been off dope since October 12, 2012. Our daughter, Julianna Jaymes, was born on November 15th, weighing in at 6lbs, 7oz. Unfortunately, she had to spend the first 6 weeks of her life in the NICU. I relapsed on January 24, 2013. Luckily, I only used that day.

In May, I got pregnant again. It had been 4 months since I last used. Out of my pregnancies that I carried to term, it was the most difficult. One day in October, I began throwing up blood. I went to the ER, where they gave me a GI Cocktail, which was a mix of Maalox and a couple other things. It had phenobarbital in it, which caused me to have a positive UDS. By this time, I had three take home bottles, which I almost lost due to the positive screen. I kept advocating for myself (something my counselor had told me she was proud of me doing) because I knew what it was from; it wasn't listed on my discharge paperwork from the hospital. It took a couple of weeks before it was finally confirmed that it was in the medicine.

On January 29, 2014, four days after I had one year off of heroin, Jim and I welcomed our 6 pound, 6 ounce son, James Jr. Luckily, he only had to stay in the NICU for 6 days.

In May, I decided that I wanted to begin my journey of getting off methadone. I had not known anyone who was successful in doing so, and remained off opioids. I began to taper. I had my first decrease of 3mg from 95. I felt great, so I changed the taper to 5mg every other week. I continued that taper plan until I was on 12mg. Once I got to 12, I chose to taper 2mg per week. That's when things got messed up.

I had 5 take home bottles. Because of the schedule of my take homes and when the taper change went in, I went from 12 to 5 in three days. My bottles for Wednesday and Thursday had 12mg. The change went into effect on Friday but since my bottles were made on Tuesday, the remaining 3 had 7 each. When I returned to the clinic on Monday, i was on 5. That day and the next, I had some mild withdrawal - sweats and chills and leg aches. I was also legit sick. I took Aleve those days and by Wednesday, I was fine. The following Monday, I was at 3, then 1 the week after that. I took my final dose on March 1, 2015.

When I got down to 3mg, I experienced the worst and only withdrawal from my entire taper, with the exception of the two days where my taper had gotten messed up. I sneezed so much and I absolutely could not sleep. Insomnia was nothing new for me but with three children aged 5 and under and going on two hours of sleep per night (if I was that lucky to get that much) was absolute hell. My clinic allows patients to stay there for counseling and groups for a year after tapering. I kept going for six months, until September, and I'm so glad I did. In May, I was chosen by the clinical director to attend a dinner hosted by the mayor of Philadelphia (as I wrote about in a post from back then).

It's been a long journey. I've now been free from the grasp of heroin for over 5½ years. On September 1st, I had 3½ years off methadone. Jim and I split two years ago but we began to rekindle our relationship this past summer. He's still on methadone, which has caused some problems, but I'd rather him be on methadone than the alternative. He has tapered over 30 milligrams. I support him no matter what he does.

I am not completely “clean.” I don't believe in the NA stance of abstinence only. I believe that recovery, like addiction, is very personal and unique and differs for everyone. I drink occasionally and I smoke pot. It's been about three, almost four weeks since I've done either. I think smoking weed has helped me to not relapse to something that will control my life. If I ever relapse, then I'll relapse. It won't be because of an occasional beer or bud. Now that medical marijuana has been legalized in PA, I'm hoping that other people may use it as a form of opioid recovery.

I've still got a long journey to go and so many more chapters to write in this story called Highway to Hell...Road to Recovery. Recovery is something that I will be in for the rest of my life. Even now, with over five years off heroin and over three years off all forms of opioids, I still have my days where I crave it or when I'm extremely stressed out and the first thing that pops into my head is buying a couple of bags. I've been strong. Stay tuned for more!

Trisomy and a New Patient

Needless to say, the news I found out was an excuse to use. I was in a depressive stage already and finding out that my baby may have this chromosomal disorder and would be lucky to live a year didn't help. I was in disbelief that they told me I only had a day or two to decide if I wanted to terminate the pregnancy. I was more than halfway through, nearly 6 months along! No way! I had already miscarried two babies (I wonder if there was a possibility that those two had chromosomal defects). I would rather hold, hug, kiss, and get to know my precious baby even if it was just for a short while.

I was told that since I chose to proceed with the pregnancy, the doctors wanted Jim and I to see a genetic counselor. I also had the option of having an amniocentesis test done (that's where they monitor the baby via ultrasound and stick this very long needle through your abdomen to collect a sample of the amniotic fluid). They said this test would give me a definitive answer as to whether or not my baby was going to have trisomy.

The genetics counselor basically took down a family history from both Jim and I - parents, siblings, grandparents, etc., and any diseases that run in our families. We were told that since we had suffered two miscarriages already and now this possibility, that we just may not be compatible to reproduce together. It as hard to hear.

It didn't take too long for the results of the amnio test. My baby was negative for trisomy. Not only that, but I found out there was less than a ONE PERCENT CHANCE that she would actually have it. I was so happy, yet so infuriated at the same time. I was furious that the doctors urged me so much to terminate the pregnancy when the chances of the baby actually being born with this condition were extremely low.

Shortly after having the amniocentesis, Jim called the methadone clinic where he had previously been a patient. They told him there was a waiting list of 6-8 weeks. Six to eight weeks?! That's insane! It makes me wonder how many people have overdosed and died waiting for a spot to open up in MAT, MMT, or rehab. It's disgusting.

Luckily for Jim, because he had been an ideal patient when he was there before, they called him back (I forget if they called him back a few hours later or the next day). They told him he could come in I think that following Monday. Thank God! Hopefully a could both get our lives back on track!

It's Been a While

It's been a while since my last post. It's been a very busy summer! Hopefully I'll update in the next week or two. In the meantime, a friend of mine that I met in the rooms of NA gave me this link to a blog that she wrote about some people in NA and their intolerance towards people who are on MAT, or medicated assisted treatment.

I've faced many people in those rooms who told me I wasn't clean because I was on methadone and that I needed to get off of it. It did turn me away from NA for a bit but I've gone back. No one can dictate my recovery for me.  Recovery is not a one size fits all approach. I couldn't get clean cold turkey. Methadone was the only thing that worked for me. I considered myself clean the entire time I was on it. Please don't let ANYONE tell you how to deal with your recovery! If you're not using and not abusing your medication, you ARE clean!!

Medication Management Treatment and Narcotics Anonymous: Time For An Open Mind

Starting a Long, Hard Journey

When I signed on to get on a methadone program, I had no idea how much work I was going to have to put into it. The clinical director visited me at the hospital to explain the program. I had to go to the clinic every single day (every day?!) to receive my medication. I was expected to go to four weeks worth of orientation groups, plus go to a prenatal group every week until I delivered my child. I had to see my counselor weekly and submit to at least two random urinalysis tests monthly. It really wasn't a lot but in the beginning, it seemed like my entire life from now on was going to consist of nothing but going to the clinic.

My first day there was so long. I had to wait for an hour (it may have even been longer) to do my intake. People asked me what number I was - number? There were girls arguing, talking about fighting (what did I get myself into?). The intake alone seemed to have taken hours, being asked a million questions. Why do they want to know if I ever sold my body to get drug money (luckily for me, that was one route I never fell into)? Finally, after what seemed like ten hours, I was able to get medicated.

I was supposed to go to orientation and start prenatal groups that week but I didn't go. Finally, about two weeks later, I was asked why I hadn't been to either of them. I said I didn't know when they started for me (I was lying). I met my counselor, who was a very nice woman, but I wasn't going to break down and tell her more than she asked.

I stayed off heroin for my first week there. Jim still got high. It was agony, seeing his continued use. One day, we were fighting (we actually fought pretty much everyday). He left the house and I began to clean our bedroom. I pulled the bed out and lying right in front of me was a full bag of dope. I picked it up. My first thought was to flush it down the toilet - that would've pissed Jim off. Instead, I put it into my pocket. I used it an hour or two later.

Later that night, I told Jim about finding it. He asked me where it was and I told him I flushed it. I got the reaction I knew I was going to get - anger. I then told him the truth. Of course, he was mad. He wasn't mad because I did it, but because I didn't give it to him so he could do it. This is how our lives continued throughout July. We fought, he went and bought dope. I was right back to using again.

At the end of July or beginning of August, I had a prenatal appointment. When I was in the hospital, they took some blood for some tests. At my first appointment, I was told that I tested positive for the baby to have Trisomy 18, Edward's Syndrome. I had no clue what that was. I've never heard of it before. It was explained to me that it was like Down Syndrome...only much, much worse (Down Syndrome is Trisomy 21). Most babies that are born with Trisomy 18 don't make it to their first birthday, with most dying in the first see of life. I was devastated. Was it because of my drug use? No. It's because when the fertilized egg begins to split, three copies of chromosome #18 are made instead of two. I was told that I could elect to terminate the pregnancy and that the time for termination was almost up - I had one or two days to decide if I wanted to continue with the pregnancy. I was almost SIX MONTHS along.

MMT

NOTE: I already published this post. For some reason, it was dated March 27, 2015. I don't know how that happened since I didn't write it until May. Keeping it with that date messed up the chronological order so I'm reposting it as a fresh blog post.

On June 29, 2012, I decided to check in at the hospital to get help for my addiction. I went to the hospital that I was taken to when I was arrested. They began my medication assisted treatment - methadone. I really didn't want to be on methadone; I had always been against it, but I didn't have much of a choice. I wasn't going to be able to stop on my own.

After I was sent to the labor and delivery unit, I was examined and had an ultrasound. They left me for about an hour or so. I began to experience withdrawal and I told the next nurse who came into my room that I couldn't take it much longer and was going to leave. She then brought me my first dose of methadone, which was 30 milligrams. I was then taken to antenatal for my hospital stay.

I wound up staying at the hospital until July 2nd. They had to be sure I was on a dose that would maintain me for 24 hours without having any cravings or withdrawal. I wanted to leave several times, and almost did twice. But my reason for wanting to leave wasn't because I wanted to get high - I didn't. I wanted a cigarette. They gave me a nicotine patch to help with that craving. When I was discharged, I was on 40 milligrams. My first day at the clinic was July 3rd.