Monday, June 30, 2008

Oxy Hell

Like most people, it seems like I have several email addresses, some that I use frequently and others, like the one associated with this blog, that I don't check as frequently as I should. Of all the addresses I have though, I must admit that I have only recently realized that this one is the most important.

Every time I log on to the email address associated with this blog, I am inundated with comments and questions from people who are currently living in, and have lived in Oxy Hell. If you found this obscure little blog because you are locked in the painful jaws of dependency, or because you are remembering the pleasure you once had (and are wondering why you work so hard to avoid it), I want to let you know something: you are not alone.

I know you are not alone because it is really difficult to find this blog, and from the tons of emails I receive, it is obvious how much people like you and me are taunted by, haunted by, and controlled by this drug. You need to know that, from the emails I receive, it appears that we all seem to share a very similar experience. From the initial joy of the drug, to the first shock of realizing that you can't survive without it, the attempts to replace it, the Suboxone, the Methadone, and not the least of which, the challenge of staying away from something so incredibly pleasurable after working so hard to stay clean, we are all living the same story line. I am convinced of it.

Someone recently commented that there are doctors who refer this blog to their patients, and I must admit that it takes a lot of courage for a doctor to do that because what I have shared here is blatantly honest and not always in-line with the story that 12-steppers, shrinks, and the CDC would like to promote. However, what you see here is not just my story, it is the story of anyone who's ever slid down into that beautifully comfortable place where Oxy can take you, and the devastating cost that one must pay to get there or get out. And, I always remember that there are some who check into that beautiful place, never check out, and pay the ultimate price.

There are those who have suggested that I have put too much emphasis on the machine that creates and promotes Oxy, and not enough emphasis on individual responsibility for the situation we've all found ourselves in. Perhaps that's true, but it cannot be denied that this drug presents the ultimate dichotomy: Oxy is good for you, and Oxy is bad for you. It's good for you if you are a cancer patient suffering from the ultimate pain. It is bad for you if you are a cancer patient and you recover from your cancer but remain hooked on Oxy. Oxy is good for you if you are depressed, but Oxy is bad for you because it leaves your depression at the door when your wallet, your sources, or your ability to function has run dry. Sure there are other drugs in this world, and they each present their own challenges, but the irony of Oxy is that there is a blurry line between that point where Oxy is good for you, and that point where Oxy becomes bad for you.

Unfortunately it has been almost a year since I have posted to this blog, but when I think about it, all the important parts have been posted. The important parts are the ones you are here for. You are here to wonder if you are the only one who is shivering at the toilet for the first time wondering why your hands feel like giant frozen rocks. You are here to wonder what will happen if you visit your doctor and attempt to get the help you need. You are here because you want to know what happens when you try to kick the Drug Replacement Therapy. I hope you'll find those answers here, but looking at the fact that I haven't posted in a year reminds me that there is something else I must share with you.

I guess my affair with Oxy began around five years ago. If you read my posts you'll join me from the beginning and travel with me through all of the different chapters of the Oxy Love Affair that you too will likely go through. What I want to share with you is the idea that there doesn't seem to be a time (at least not in my experience) when Oxy is positioned so far back in your rear-view mirror that it is inconsequential. In March of 2007 I finally got off Suboxone and it wasn't easy. I will reiterate that it was not even remotely as difficult as going cold-turkey on Oxy, but it did take effort. In August of 2007 I encountered a challenging 'life event' as the shrinks might put it. The shrinks should tell it like it is. I was going through something that had nothing to do with Oxy, but it was something that rocked my world with equal destruction, and it had nothing to do with drugs. I will let you think about what kind of 'life event' it might have been, but that's not what's important. What matters is the fact that Oxy was there, it will always be there, and it is like an old lover that will always take you back. I took her in my arms and she lovingly held me when there was nothing else that could stop my tears.

After two or three weeks of allowing Oxy to let me sleep over, I realized that she was just as bad for me as the situation I was seeking comfort from. I found a new doctor who dispensed Suboxone, and this doctor had a remarkable attitude and approach to the situation. Although I had only been taking Oxy for a few weeks, I felt I probably could stop, but I knew I didn't want to. This wasn't just a question of dependency, as three weeks or so probably wouldn't be such a hard string to kick. This was a question of whether or not I would ever stop taking Oxy in light of the situation I was medicating myself for. I started taking Suboxone again, and I haven't even attempted to quit.

To some, this might sound wrong. But the attitude and approach of my new doctor was something that struck me in a different light. He suggested that I recognize the fact that while I was on Suboxone I didn't feel the urge to take Oxy, or any other opiates for that matter. Considering that Suboxone had very few negative consequences on my day-to-day functioning and health, why would I quit taking it? After all, it seemed that when I took Suboxone I was less likely to take opiates, and ultimately, whatever negative consequences arose from taking Suboxone, they were much less than the risk that might arise if I went back to my opioid lover.

So, here's the idea I will leave you with until the next time I have something important to add to this blog. Oxy is kind of like having a child. Kids grow up and eventually, for better or for worse, they go away. However, they are always out there. You love them, but you don't want to live with them forever, and you hope they move along and live their own lives, but no matter what you do, they will always be a part of you. There will never come a time when you can look back and say to yourself "Well. parenthood is over, and I don't have to worry about those kids again." Oxy will always be a part of you. We all want to hear that there will come a time when we are "free" of our memories and that we'll never again have to reflect on the years when Oxy was such a big part of our lives, but I think that it is unlikely that anyone could ever get to that point.

This might be kind of depressing for someone who is at the point where they are deep in the throngs of dependency and desperately wanting to rid themselves of Oxy's crushing grip, but maybe this paradigm could be helpful. Oxy gave us all something wonderful, but ultimately painful. Instead of attempting the daunting task of ridding ourselves completely of our memories and desires, instead of wishing and hoping for a way to erase what has happened, maybe it is easier to accept that we can't eliminate Oxy from our lives any more than we can eliminate our affection for our first kiss, our first love, our deepest joys. It might always be there. It might be easier to accept this fact, to live with what we know about Oxy, than to hope for a day when what Oxy has revealed to us somehow disappears. After all, if you could erase your Oxy experience, you'd probably discover it all over again.

Peace,

Gus

About this Blog

For the past ten years I have been writing about my experience using oxycodone, the active ingredient in OxyContin, Percocet, and other prescription painkillers. I eventually developed a tolerance, then dependence, and became addicted. My archive covers my abuse of these drugs and my effors to quit using them.

I have tried to accurately report my experience without a sense of advocacy. It is my hope that you'll be able to make your own conclusions, as well as find my story factual, informative, and interesting.