from a lined piece of paper i wrote on while having a drink in the park on friday. or was it thursday?
Been a bit of a silly sausage. Only the other week I was sitting in a meeting with my key worker at the DDU (Drug Dependency Unit), telling him how happy I was and proud of myself for keeping off heroin for the longest possible time in my life. Which as you know, is a pitiful small amount of weeks, so embarrassing it does not even nearly reach four. Four. Four? Pathetic I know but it is the best I can do. As I left, I handed over a sample tube of my lukewarm piss and was given a firm handshake and ’Congratulations- you look so well, keep up the good work!’.
I mostly owe it to them, actually. They decided after a few months, to put me on a community script. This means I pick my methadone up from a chemist and do not have to go to the DDU Monday to Friday between 8.30am and 12.45pm like everyone else. A few of the others there gave me a bit of stick when they found out. I do not blame them. Most have been going for years, some about ten or fifteen and they still have to go daily, even though they beg for a community script. And then I join up and after a few months I get handed a community script I didn’t even ask for!
So how do I owe it to them? Well, when I had to go everyday, I would set off around 12.15pm and go in and down my methadone. Then, as I would come out I would see everybody else that had just been in there congregating at the bus stop nearby having a drink. I befriended quite a few people and as a result, I started to sit there with them everyday for hours drinking and chatting. And of course, you would get somebody shout out “anybody want to go halves on a bag with me?” and at £5 for half a bag, it wasn’t that great a loss. I should know, I did this almost everyday. It was so easy to do. The staff at the unit were not dumb, and knew I was hanging about with the others, who lets face it, were in most cases at least about 10-20 years older than me. They decided that I would recover better if I was away from other junkies and alcoholics. And you know what? They were actually right. It is so much easier to stay away from something when your nose is not rubbed into it.
But me being a silly sausage, I got back in touch with the girl who first gave me heroin. Or rather, she got in touch with me, to borrow moneny. I decided to get a bag with her. We went into the pub and I bought us a couple of drinks and while I downed my pint she went in to toilets to do her hit. The hilarious thing about the toilets was, the lights were on a scensor, so you really had to rush with your hit if you wanted. She came back after her £10 hit and saw me borrow £20 off a mate as I had no money left after buying our drinks. She say there and began to whine and get tearful for another £10. I explained I really couldn’t do it because of my need to buy alcohol and pay my rent. However, I am a soft touch and she threatened to leave so I got her another bag. It was horrible, really. When I went to do mine, it took me about 2 hours and by the time I found a vein, the plunger had bust. You just couldn’t push it down without dislodging the pin. If you keep on pushing and pulling back the plunger chances are it will stiffen up and fail to expel the air/contents. It just slides upwards. That was a bummer. A waste of £10, too.
This didn’t particularly make me want to do heroin again. I was unfazed by the experience. So, the next day, I did not go near it. But by the next I got a call from the dealer Joe, who drives up from somewhere in East London with bags of crack and heroin. £20 each or two for £35, three for £50. What a deal! Since they would meet me merely 3 minutes from my home, I thought, ’Why not?’ and went and met them. But instead of getting a twenty, I thought I would get 3. And these are good bags, about point 5. I had to see my sister that night and while I was sitting drinking a crate of beers with her, they were burning into my skin from the pocket in my jeans. I couldn’t wait to get back to mine where I tried to get a hit. 40 minutes or so later and BINGO. It knocked me out straight away. Maybe it wasn’t wise to do over half in a pin when I hadn’t used for long. I didn’t wake up until gone 5am, having done it at midnight. God I felt rough when I did.
Winter depresses me. It is just so… so…. Long. Cold and dark, drags on far too long. I have been in a lot during the days, then going to the pub about 5pm until kicking out time. When I am at home, I listen to music. Like Lou Reed, for example. And watch films like Trainspotting and Sid & Nancy and read books like Christianne H and Junk. Heroin is just so romanticised. I found myself, while consuming whatever piece of media, drooling and getting almost rushes of sexual excitement. From somebody that has not had an orgasm in over a year, I find it amazing I still can get a feeling like that. Even if it is when I am fantasising about heroin. So, when you are bored, what do you do?
TAKE HEROIN OF COURSE! So, I went and got some more. Took it, had to do it in my groin which was a big mistake. After a few hits in the same spot it started to really ache and my thigh swelled and hurt when touched. BACK TO SMOKING. Which is never as good, but smoking it the other day, I did vomit. Just like I used to vomit when I first took it. God, that was so good. You will never get that first rush back, but little bits of it is just as good. It is the closest you are going to get.
I am laying off it for a while. Even though I have £180 in my pocket. Off to the pub I think. Then to score after, I suppose. Silly sausage that I am.
The past few days have been particularly bad. Physically, that is. I had to stay at my Nans house because for the past couple of weeks my old condition returned. Ever since around two weeks into my methadone script, I started to get really bad heart palpitations, dizzy spells and fainting. I must say, I have been on it for months now and at first I just put it down to being physically addicted to alcohol. Turns out its not. According to my doctor, it has just caused a minor problem- arrhythmias. Luckily my Mum is a nurse and is therefore 100% clued-up when it comes to medical terminology. Hang on, am I that lucky? I strolled away thinking, “ECG? Maybe that is the name for a swanky new blood pressure monitor,”. Errr, no. She tells me what it is and explains they wouldn’t waste their time doing one if they were not pretty concerned. Heart problems scare me; my aunt had a heart attack at 34, her sister has angina, my Dad had heart disease, my grandad has had a triple bypass. I just know I am going to die of heart disease at an early age due to my excessive smoking and drinking. If heroin doesn’t kill me first. Or something else attributed to my disgracefully wreckless behaviour. I have been vomiting all day every day for the past four. Yesterday I had an awful attack and thought ‘I feel a bit weak’. Before I knew it I was waking up with my cheek stinging like hell with my Nan standing over me, trying to haul me up. My heart beat seamed to slow down and I had very slow, dull, painful beats in my chest, and it hurt (maybe the pain is from panic?). I suddenly felt weak and dizzy and I just fainted. Not for long- about 3 minutes? Nan heard my fat ass hit the floor from 3 rooms away. I DON’T LIKE THIS. I was up until 5.16am this morning, as my chest meant I couldn’t sleep. I just couldn’t. It is probably the methadone, alcohol and heroin combined that is doing me no favours. Ha- No Shit!
and next week I have to go for a appointment at the cardiology department for outpatients, which includes an ECG