The process

They say it takes a village to raise a child.  I believe it takes a team to achieve recovery.  It is not just about the 12-step program or getting through the kick of titrating off of drugs.  That is just the beginning.  I have read a lot of self help books in my life.  Each time I came across a situation in my life that I needed to get through, I sought out the teachers that will help me through it.  When I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia, I did a lot of online searches, went to support groups and bought a lot of books.  When I was diagnosed with hypothyroidism, I bought a lot of books.  When I made the decision to get off of the drugs, I started gathering my team. 

My first goal was to find a doctor who would understand my situation and who had experience with my situation.  Then I thought the 12-step program was the next step, but when they wanted a urine sample to test for drugs (even though we both knew it was going to be positive), I felt that was the wrong direction.  You don't use a pancake recipe to make muffins.  I have read a lot of books and talked to a lot of people who are or have been dependent on drugs, and the one thing that range through my mind is there is going to be a lot of stuff come up that I have been numbing for a lot of years that will need to be addressed if I expect to be successful.  So, I sought out a counselor/psychiatrist whom I could confide in and help manage the difficulty of overcoming the emotional aspect of what I was about to go through.  Thankfully, my doctor suggested one to me. 

The first appointment we just gathered information to define my goals, which is a lot harder than it sounds.  The only goal I had in my mind at that time was to get off the drugs and how hard that was going to be, so I needed to be focused.  I hadn't thought much past that.  I found it difficult to break down what I was thinking and feeling and describe how I was going to chip away at the steps I needed to take to be healthy again.  Let alone the fact that I am still under the effect of drugs and still had a foggy brain.  The first hour went quickly, though.  I was pretty calm and composed, even though I could feel tears welling up in my throat and I knew if she said the wrong word I was going to be diving for the tissue box to mop up the flood of tears that would start.  I got through it though.  Before I knew it, the hour was up and we were scheduling the next appointment. 

During the drive to my next appointment, I wasn't sure what I was going to talk about.  I had a couple little things that I could touch on, but nothing really major had happened in the week between our last visit.  So I was pretty devoid of subject matter.  I had rosy visions of sitting across from her the whole hour just breathing at each other.  That appointment turned out to be a doozy!

I spent the full hour or so crying my eyes out in frustration (yup, I finally cried).  I have had so many emotions going through me that I really had not been aware of, that could not describe and didn't understand where they were coming from.  A lot of it was frustration.  I wanted this struggle to be done and over with.  I wanted to get on with my life and have this behind me.  I felt like I was climbing a huge rock mountain in thongs.  The same time I was acquiring a little bit of pride for getting this far, it seemed like there was so much further to go....and sometimes I wasn't so sure I could do it. 

I read somewhere that once a person starts numbing with drugs or alcohol (any mood or mind altering substance), we stop growing intellectually, emotionally and mentally.  Boy did they get that right!  I knew this was going to be an element of my recovery, but I truly did not understand how monumental this task was going to be.  I can honestly say, I now understand why people relapse.  It is very difficult to feel very frustrated in the midst of a situation, have emotions bubble up and not know what to do with them.  Especially anger.  It became very apparent to me that, in the past when I would be in situations where I was angry or frustrated, I would just take another pill and before I knew it.....everything was okay again.  Whatever it was that upset me, was now no longer an issue......or even if it was.....I didn't care anymore.  So each time I did this, I was stuffing my emotions.  I kinda look at it as depositing into my dysfunction bank.  Sooner or later it comes back to me....and I hate that when it does because I usually act on it from an emotional place instead of taking the time to think things out and then dealing with them.  When that happens, usually nothing but bad comes out of it.  As my mind begins to clear off of the drugs, I seem to have moments of time when I get these very strong feelings that I don't know what to do with that usually turns into frustration. 

And it seems like these moments keep cropping up every time I turn around.  When my husband (bless him for his patience) does not take all of the garbage out at a time, I see red.  It makes no sense to me to go through the expense of using the energy at all if the job is not completed.  When my dog gets in the way as I am racing through the house to catch the phone and nearly trips me, I want to yell at her for being so stupid.  Then when I look back at her to do so, she has this 'I'm sorry, mom' look on her face and my heart melts.  Then I feel like crap for even being mad at her to begin with and I get angry with myself.  Then I get frustrated because I should know how to control my emotions better.  These things may sound pretty petty to the average person, but for someone going through drug withdrawals, they can be a great reason to take a pill and make it not matter. 

I filled my last OxyContin prescription.  The bottle is still sitting in my bathroom cabinet that I call it my pharmacy.  So far I have not even looked at it, but I have thought about it.  It makes more sense to me to have it available so that I have the choice to take it or not.  If I didn't, the way I think, I would be panicked and feeling like I was backed into a corner with no way out.  I read that once in a stop smoking book I read.  Every time you want a cigarette, make the choice whether or not you want to light one up.  If you do, then light one up.  That theory doesn't work very well for someone who does not want to quit smoking....but for someone who does, you find yourself choosing not to more and more, because your goal is to choose not to until you choose to be a nonsmoker.  I thought that applying this mindset would work for me.  For some people this won't work.  We all need to figure out how to work things out so they will work best for what we want to achieve. 

So, after my last counseling session I came home, got on my computer and printed out a couple mantras.  I have them pasted on my computer where I work all day and will see them all the time.  One says, "This is normal."  I remember while sitting in the counselor's office, crying my eyes out and talking a mile a minute about how frustrated I was.  She waited until I took an inhale and simply said, "This is normal."  For some reason that really hit me hard, but in a good way.  I had forgotten how difficult it is to go through what I was going through.  I forgot to compare where I am now to where I was before the drugs, where I am going to be when this is over.  In the big picture, this really is normal!  All of a sudden, my world just got a lot bigger.  I was so focused on minute-to-minute and day-to-day recovery, that I forgot about patience.  I forgot to like myself in the process.  Yes, what I am going through is monumental...yes, it is probably going to be the most difficult thing for me to do in this life....yes, it is going to take time.....and....yes, it IS normal.  

The next mantra I chose after this revelation was, "I forgive me."  If you think about it for a while, it is very profound.  Most people spend their whole lives being disappointed in themselves for whatever reason.  I didn't get that new job....I left the keys in my car this morning and someone stole it....I spilled coffee all over my new shirt I just bought and ruined it.....I stubbed my toe and it pissing me off because it hurts.   Whatever the reason.  Then we have this inner voice inside our head that tells us all the negatives....and it plays it back over and over again until we believe it as being true.  Before you know it, that 'truth' becomes part of us and we behave and act on that truth.  It can be very destructive.....very destructive.  I had saved up a lot of that negative talk throughout my years.  A lot of it from my childhood, so I have had many years of practice, many years of convincing myself and believing it to be true, but that day......I decided to forgive myself. 

I forgave myself for opting not to go to college when I had the chance and accomplishing more in my life.   I forgave myself for my 2 failed marriages.  I forgave myself for not being a better mother, for being angry for so many years and not knowing why, for not being a better sister, a better daughter, for trusting the doctors for believing that narcotics were in my best interest......and most of all, for allowing myself to be weak enough become addicted to drugs. 

I know that sounds like a blink of an eye change, but trust me it isn't.  That is why I printed it out and taped to my computer.... so it will be in front of my face all day.....to remind myself that I need to change the negative voice in my head that keeps telling me why I shouldn't like myself for what I have done or who I have been or who I have become and change those thoughts to ones that will help me with forgiving myself.

The last mantra I printed out was one that simply says, "It is do-able."  I know.....for you rationals out there, the grammar is driving you nuts.  But I remember when my counselor said that to me.  When I started crying again (yup...again) and got caught up in the negative voices in my head as I was pouring out my thoughts and feelings, the next moment I allowed my counselor to get a word in edgewise, there was a bit of a pause....then she said, "but, it's do-able."  In that moment, I felt a huge sigh of relief coming out of me as I deflated back down to earth.  You know what......it IS do-able!  That was such a profound thing for her to say at that moment.  I felt like a balloon that had just been popped with a needle and the more air that came out, the more I hurdled toward mental reality again.   

The world is not going to come to an end in a heartbeat if I pause my life long enough to go through this and come out clean.  Life is not going to end as we know it if I don't have all the answers right now and I can't click my fingers and be done with it.  This is a process.  It may be a long one, but well worth it.  What will I gain?  I will gain my health back.  I will gain my memories, my emotions, my relationships.....but most of all......I will gain my self respect back.  I think that is the one thing I miss the most..... my self respect. 

That means a lot to me.  I used to have a lot of it.  Somewhere along the line, I don't remember when, I lost that.  I can walk around all day long being the person everyone thinks I am and come off looking okay on the outside.  But on the inside, I have felt broken.....defeated....deflated and empty.  I have lost my zest for fun in life.  I remember telling my counselor that I used to 'eat' life.  I had passion for living and experiencing new things.  For such a long time my whole world evolved around making sure that I have enough pills to make it through until I can get another script, that I lost my self respect.  I forgot how to nurture it.  I haven't felt really good about myself in a long, long time. 

Of course, that made me angry and yes....I cried....or rather....I grieved.  It was kind of a weird good grief, though.  It was cleansing.  The more I cried and let it out, the more I could come to terms with the fact that these last 20 years, I have sat back and pretty much wasted my life.  It was the cold hard truth, it happened, it is done.  I cannot change it....but I can decide to change it in the future.  I have that power.  We all have that power within us....to change our mind....to take a different journey....to regroup, restock and set out on another path.  This time when I climb the mountain, I will wear my boots.  I really felt like this was a good starting point.  Not when I first started titrating off of the drugs, but now.  I thought the beginning was when I made my decision to get off the drugs, but I think I will make this my new beginning.  Now that the fog is starting to clear and I am starting to feel and think more clearly again. 

But, I am still scared and excited.  My revelations have not change that.  I have a better way of thinking of things and with my counselor's help, I will learn more tools..... and if I blow up in anger or get really frustrated, I can make a new beginning there as well.  I can choose each time I fall, to get back up.... and if I don't like who I am......I will change my mind....because this is normal and I forgive myself... and the job that I have set out in from of me is do-able. 

My reasons

It is important that I figure out why I chose to take the path I took....why I decided to continue taking narcotics and numb out.  What was it in my life that I couldn't or didn't want to face.  I have thought about it a lot in the last few weeks.  Today marks the 14th day of no OxyContin.  The doctor wanted me to titrate off of the Vicodin following a 3-week schedule.  I did it in 1 week, but then I ran out of the OxyContin and I had 3 days before my doctor's appointment to get my refill.  So, I bridged with Vicodin.  It made more sense to me, since the OxyContin was a long acting narcotic, to titrate off of it first using the Vicodin to bridge and take a little bit of the edge off.  So that is what I did.  When I went back to see my doctor who was helping me get off of the narcotics, I shared this mindset with him.  I was told that since I was the exception and obviously dedicated to meeting my goal, any way I could find to make it work for me was fine with him.  So this is what I am doing.  I usually take 3 to 6 Vicodin in a 24-hour period.  Usually I take 2 at a time at night when I wake up with back pain.  I also have Lidoderm patches that I can put on my back to keep the pain from radiating down my left leg and waking me up, but some nights I am so tired, I forget to put them on before bed.  This regimen seems to be working, as I am celebrating my 14th day. 

It hasn't been easy, though.  Some days I am so exhausted, I just lay on the couch watching TV.  On the days that I have to work, it is all I can do to get through my day and collapse in bed.  I get these headaches that start in my neck and travel up to my forehead.  One morning I awoke at 4:00 in the morning with the feeling of needing to run to the bathroom and throw up.  That feeling stayed with me the whole day. 

So, back to my point....I think it is important to understand why I continued to numb out with pills.  When I was 15 years old, my mother signed the license for me to get married.  I had just broken up with a boy whom I thought I was going to marry and live happily ever after.  My dad and I got into a huge yelling match on evening because he didn't think the boy was good enough for me.  Long and the short of it, I broke up with him.  I sent him a 'Dear John' letter when he was stationed in Germany in the Army with my older brother.  I never forgave myself for that.  I know I hurt him terribly and it made me feel unworthy of ever having love like that again.  Of course, I was 15, so magnify that by 20 million.  That is how 15 year olds think and feel.....but I have to say, the underlying feeling of not being worthy stuck with me for the rest of my life, but I didn't realize it.....until now.

We got married and within a year we had our first Daughter.  She was so much like her father.  At that time, that would have been a compliment, but since the divorce......not so much.  About a year and a half later, we had our second daughter....(yup, you guessed it...just like me).  We were married for 6 years.  Before I knew it, I was a single mother with 2 children who had a father that didn't know how to be a part time father, so he wasn't a father at all.  I remember the first Christmas when we didn't have the money for gifts or Christmas dinner and I was living with my then single mother, who also was financially challenged at the time.  It was pretty grim.  I got really angry with my situation and called DSHS and found out  that the state would collect child support for me so I didn't have to beg him every month for the few dollars that were thrown our way.  That was a relief. 

So then I met my second husband.  He was a kind person who was very nurturing.  It didn't take very long and I was once again walking down the isle.....much to my older daughter's defiance.  We ended up buying a house in a little suburb and the kids had to walk 3 blocks to school in the morning.  I loved that house, even though the kids teased me about the mauve and light blue interior.  What can I say, that was in at that time. 

I got a job in a local retail store in the hardware department.  I was pretty proud of the fact that the older men would come in and tip their noses up at me because they didn't think that a 'girl' could be helpful in finding what they needed.  Most of the time I had a smile on my face and a huge feeling of satisfaction as they walked to the registers, having not only found what they needed, but being educated on how to use whatever tool or what not they had chosen to buy that day.  It was a good feeling. 

I remember one day I was in the warehouse upstairs moving our summer stock around so we could get to our fall stock.  I reached up to either grab a lawn mower when I felt a tremendous amount of pain in my left shoulder.  I was a lean mean muscle machine at that time in my life, so I sucked it up and finished out my day.  The next morning when the alarm clock went off, I couldn't move out of my bed......literally.  I had one of the kids bring me a phone to call into work to let them know I wasn't going to be in that day and why.  I remember hearing some argument out of my boss, but I reassured him that I really could not get out of bed.   That was the last time I got to see the inside of my hardware department from an employee point of view. 

The next thing I knew I was going in for surgery.  I guess I had torn up my shoulder pretty bad and needed surgical correction if I was ever going to be out of pain again.  If that wasn't bad enough (to add insult to injury) I ended up needing a second surgery because I had formed a bunch of scar tissue in my shoulder joint during the healing process and lost quite of bit of range of motion in that arm.  So I went for round 2.  I remember a followup appointment with my regular doctor some time after that...sitting in the chair in the examination room and him in a chair directly across from me.  I remember it so clearly in my mind.  I explained some symptoms I was having a hard time dealing with lately.  By that time I had been through vocational rehab and was retrained to be a medical transcriptionist, so I got away from the real physical work I was previously doing. 

The symptoms I was having at that time were a lot of fatigue, lethargy, widespread pain all over my body, headaches.....and so on....and so on....  So that is when I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia.  He assured me that it was not a progressive disease, but that it was incurable and I would have what he called 'flares' that may come in cycles.  It sounded like such a foreign word, but it rang in my ears for days.  I was panicked and scared and in denial.  I started compulsively searching out any information I could find about the disorder.  Back then there wasn't a lot of information so I really had to dig.  It was a new diagnosis for the medical profession.  I guess there were enough people complaining about the same symptoms, they finally linked it all together and called it fibromyalgia.  It took another 20 years before medical billing assigned a diagnosis code to it and it became recognized.  Then George and everybody were running to the state offices signing up for disability.  That wasn't going to be me, though.  I was into my second marriage with 2 kids and I was not going to fail my family and become a burden. 

I remember the next thing, I was working in a local medical office as a transcriptionist.  We had a D.O. who worked upstairs.  Her field of choice was chronic pain patients and I was typing a lot of her notes and learning a lot about how this new drug that came out was potentially a new miracle drug for people with chronic pain.  The FDA assured us that it was not addictive, even though the main chemical was morphine.  Wow, what a breakthrough!  I was excited that there was a therapy that was so easy as to just take a pill and it would take my pain away, and it wasn't addictive!  I bet you can guess what line I went and stood in. 

Before I knew it, I was up on top again.  I could work my full time job, my part time job on the weekends and I could be there for my kids.  Life was great.....at least in that respect. 

My second husband never really got along with my kids.  My older daughter had a chip on her shoulder about the fact that he was not her father and she didn't have to listen to him because of that fact.  I heard that often out of her mouth.  My husband didn't know how to deal with her.  He had never had kids of his own.  You would think that by coming from a family of 8 kids, he would have a little bit of a clue.....but no....yup......clueless. 

There were awful yelling matches between my older daughter and he.  Then she would drag her sister into the act and before I knew it, the whole house was filled with total chaos and dysfunction.  I didn't realize just how really bad it was until my mother came to live with us after she injured herself at work.  It was a terrible time for her.  She and dad had been split for a few years at that point in time and she really didn't have anywhere else to go.  I love my mother to the core.  Her only fault is that she loves too much. 

One afternoon I left for work.  When I arrived home that evening, mom called me downstairs.  My husband was gone and it was only the kids, mom and I who were home.  Mom sat me down and explained to me just what was going on when I was not home.  My husband would yell at the kids until he lost his voice.  He would call them names and stoop down to a child's level.  She heard him tell them that they WILL respect him because he is an adult.  I didn't matter to him that he was verbally abusing them and no respect had ever been earned.  Before I knew it, my older daughter was moving in with her father and my younger daughter and I were looking for an apartment.....yup....strike 2!

All throughout those years, I was taking narcotics.  It was my save all.  It was the only way I could manage my life and take care of the things that needed to be taken care of.  I couldn’t allow the pain to take me over, not with so much at stake.  I was once again a single mother living on my own with my younger daughter.  My mom and dad had gotten back together and had moved in with each other in their own place.  I was scared for my mom because I didn't want to see her ever go through being hurt like that again.  But I had enough on my plate at that time, I had to trust that she knew I would be there if she needed to talk.  Mom and I are like that and I have always been very thankful that she knew how to move our relationship from mother/daughter to friends as I grew up.  Dad still does not really understand our relationship in that respect, but that’s okay.  I think it is not only a mom/daughter thing, but a girl thing as well.  At least it is a mom/daughter thing for people whose mother's care.  I know there are a lot of people on this earth who are so much less fortunate that I am in that respect.  It makes my heart ache to think that a mother can be anything else than loving, nurturing, kind......but it is a cold hard fact of life and my heart goes out to people who have been cheated of that experience. 

Years went by like this.  I was working myself to exhaustion to keep up with the bills again and get my daughter through school.  She was very quiet at that time in her life.  I always wondered if it was the calm before the storm or if that was just a part of her personality.  My older daughter was so overwhelming in every way, that I often wondered if my younger daughter was quiet because of that.  As life went on with just she and I, she started becoming more outgoing and, I think, more happy.  My heart was breaking those years because of my older daughter's decision to live with her father.  I think it set up a wide separation between us that would never be healed. 

But I had my pills.....thankfully.....my safety net. 

The years went by and everything around me changed.  The relationship between my older daughter and I never did heal.  I was even told after her marriage and her first pregnancy that she didn't think that I was the type of person she wanted as an influence in her children's lives.  That was a huge blow to me.  I knew we never really saw eye to eye, but to deny me the right to love my grand babies and watch them grow up was way too much for me to bear.  That was hugely painful....so painful that at first, I didn't know what to do with all of it.  It blinded me and it made my whole body ache with emotional pain and the feeling of loss was almost too much to bear.  I thought I was going to literally loose my mind.  It still cuts pretty deep, but I think I have replaced the pain with anger.....anger in the thought that we can never go back....I will never get to be a part of my grand baby's lives, because if I am.....she could do that to me again....hurt me so badly that it blinds me.  I can't bear that again. 

So this is where we are.....like it or not.  I don't know how to overcome it and I don't think I would have the strength to try. 

I honestly don't remember when I hurt my low back.  I remember having an MRI a lot of years ago and the doctor telling me that I had torn the pad in between my disks in my low back.  When my doctor asks me what the pain feels like, the only thing I can come up with is that it feels like a toothache running down my left leg.  It wakes me up at night and I cannot lie still.  It is very frustrating....especially with my sleep.  It has always been my belief that, unless you cherish your life as you know it, DON'T wake me up!!  It was hard enough to get through my days with the fibro, but without sleep, it multiplied the difficulty substantially.  Thankfully I had my pills.....and yet another reason to make sure that I was going to my doctor every month, that I had enough money in my wallet to pay for my prescriptions, that I was working and maintaining my health insurance so I could afford my doctor's visits and my prescriptions......

I think you get my picture.  In and among all the other stuff life was throwing at me, there was an underlying feeling of panic and fear that I was going to end up in a position where I wouldn't have my pills to help me through.  I even had visions of my doctor retiring some day, or even worse....suddenly dying.....then where would I be.....(I know, pretty selfish, huh?). 

Then one day I was watching the news on TV....and guess what?.....the FDA came out with a report and OxyContin after all....was addictive!  Imagine that!  What a shock...(no, your not mistaken, I am being condescending).  I guess it didn't surprise me so much.  I think I already knew from personal experience.  It didn't change my course much, though.  Not at that time in my life. 

More and more I heard news stories and read articles on the addictive properties of OxyContin and how the FDA had made a mistake.  By that time, the doctor in the clinic I was working in had 2 patients who had overdosed on it and administration was changing their viewpoint on that type of medical practice.  They started making it hard on her during her evaluations and I remember she came to me a couple of times in tears out of frustration because she wanted to do the right thing for her patients, but at that time, she wasn't sure what that was.  I think a lot of doctors started feeling that way at that time. 

I quickly saw a huge social stigma surrounding doctor's prescribing narcotic drugs to people who maybe really didn't need them.  It gave me a sick feeling inside the pit of my stomach.  I felt ashamed of myself for not being able to stop taking them.  I hid what I was doing from my friends.  I stopped being as social as I used to be.  My whole life depended on them.  How could I work?  Was I going to be one of the people that ended up on disability?  The fear was numbing and the panic was real.  My pride wasn't ready to take this blow...the thought that, if I do not have my pills, what will happen to my life...what will happen to me....who will I be?

Taking action

So, I got on the phone today.  My thinking is, the first place to start is some sort of drug and alcohol rehab center.  I never thought of myself as an addict before.  I mean, I know I am dependent, but an addict?  Whatever…..this was a good place to start.  Knowing myself well enough (at least from an “addict’s” point of view), I feel that more of a medical perspective to recovery would work better.  You know…not so much the five sessions a week of outpatient rehab with one day a week at NA or something like that, but more what medications would be effective in helping with the withdrawal symptoms.  That worries me more at the present time than anything else. 

I live in a relative large farming area.  This valley started out being apples and cherries and then went to wine grapes.  So, my options were relatively limited at best.   The first place I called wasn’t very helpful.  She explained to me that their program was shut down for the next year because they couldn’t find counselors who could get along well enough for the program to continue.  They were in kinda hold mode.  That made me feel a little deflated a bit.  How in the heck am I going to get clean if the counselors couldn’t be functional enough to hold their jobs? 

After a few minutes of deep breathing, I went to the next one.  A very nice lady came on the phone and after explained to her what I was looking for, she went into explaining to me about their program and how they could help.  I was feeling pretty hopeful until she started talking about the fact that they give us hospital gowns and…….at that point in time, I interrupted her and commended again that I was not interested in anything inpatient.  It is very important that I be able to continue working because of my health insurance.  I didn’t know how else to afford it.  After a few moments of discomfort, I thanked her and then promptly sat down and cried.  I was so frustrated at that point.  I started to think that I bit off more than I could chew and that I was going to have to resolve myself to the fact that this is the way life was going to be for me. 

Then I got mad (Ya, stubborn, remember?).  I went back to the phone book for one of the last phone numbers that looked like good enough options and called.  It happened to be a place that friends of mine had gone to.  Unfortunately they were not very successful….but I am a different person and, what the heck…..nothing gained, nothing lost (or as I like to say, no guts, no glory). 

The receptionist came on the phone and I stated my reason for calling and asked if they had more of a medical approach to treatment.  She said yes and I scheduled an appointment in a few days.  I was surprised that I could get in so quickly. 

When I arrived at my appointment, I was surprisingly numb.  I play scenarios in my mind all the time when it comes to doing things that are uncomfortable.  It helps me gain control of my emotions when I think it is going to be a difficult task.  I don’t know about you, but I hate crying in front of people or loosing my cool.  I have always been a very private person my whole life and unless I give you permission to peak at my insides, I would rather you not.  Know what I mean?  Like that 3-foot area around my body that I only give few people permission to enter.  Course, it could have been the extra OxyContin I took before I left home….just in case I was there for a while. 

Anyway, I accepted the clipboard the receptionist gave me, sat down and proceeded to fill out 3 pages of whatever I will filling out before I realized it was the same sheet.  I am sure my face was a little red when I went up the counter to turn in my work and explained to her that I did not realize it was then same sheet, “I am pretty thorough,” I remember saying, to try to pass it off as a joke….lighten the mood, so she didn’t think I was a total idiot.  She chuckled (thank God), and offered to shred the extras and gave me another clipboard with 12 or so pages on it to complete my paperwork.  I sat down again and numbly filled them out as I watched and listened to stuff going on around me to get a feel for the place.  There was a young kid sitting across from me filling out his bible as well.  I felt kinda sad for him.  I got the impression that a lot of people went through this place for legal reasons.  An older guy came in while I was filling out my paperwork and spent 20 minutes or so explaining his case and that he needed to have paperwork in order to get his driver’s license back.  I remember he told the receptionist that he had not driven in 5 years and he was excited to be doing this. 

A guy walked in the door and noticed the flustered look on the receptionist’s face and stepped in to help out.  He sounded like one of the counselors.  I was impressed with the calm, helpful, compassionate way he spoke to the guy and it was at that point I took a deep breath and realized that I was in the right place. 

A few minutes later I was handing my paperwork to the flustered receptionist and was being called down the hall by a rather attractive (middle aged?)...(man I hope she doesn’t read this and get offended) woman with a relatively calm demeanor, to a room at the end of the hall.  The room was what I expected, except she had a coleus plant that encircled the top of the walls about 3 times.  So, it appeared she had been here for a while.  Even that gave me a little comfort. 

The paperwork was daunting.  They wanted to know everything; from how much beer I drink on a regular basis and when I started drinking, how much medical marijuana I ingest and when I first started smoking it (my doctor that provides the OxyContin and Vicodin was also kind enough to refer me to get a license for medical marijuana as well), my family addiction history, the names of all my children (oh, sounds like a soap opera, doesn’t it?) and if they have addictive histories…. I was honestly waiting for her to ask me where I go for vacations and what kind of bread I buy. 

After all that, she sat back and asked me if I had any questions before we went any further.  Of course, I was interested in medical therapy and inquired as such.  She then explained to me that they do not have a doctor on staff and do not prescribe drugs for withdrawal.  My heart sank and I went immediately into my own mind and I honestly do not recall what she said next.  It was simply heartbreaking and frustrating (ya, you’re gonna hear that word a lot…sorry, but true). 

She had a kind way about her, though.  She knew when to talk and when to listen.  No, I didn’t break down and cry.  I think my OxyContin was well kicked in by then.  After what I felt was a long period of time and was beginning to worry about getting back home because I was late for work, she decided to hold the rest of the intake and we got to talking about a doctor in town who was the only doctor licensed to prescribe Suboxone for withdrawal.  Suboxone is a narcotic medication indicated for the treatment of opioid dependence, available only by prescription and must be taken under a doctor’s care, as prescribed.   If you are interested in gathering more information regarding Suboxone, here is a web site you can start with:  http://www.suboxone.com/

The really cool part of this story, is that he not only dealt with his addiction, he saved his medical practice, and is now the only doctor in this part of the state who is licensed to prescribe Suboxone.  I was soo impressed with that.  Who else to help someone like me out, but someone I know who has gone through it himself.  Not only that, but helps a lot of other people out as well.  That spoke volumes to me!  I could feel my mind relax.  I knew I had gone the right direction.  Even though she may not be able to help me out, she had information that led me to just the right person. 

Anyway, I was starting to get excited about this prospect……until she said something about a waiting list (Yup, crushed again, but still not crying).  Then she said the doctor’s name, which totally set me back.  It was a doctor I had worked for many years ago as a receptionist.  He too had some addiction issues and almost lost his license to practice medicine because he was not returning calls from his underwriters regarding a yearly physical he was supposed to take to maintain that license.  Yup, addiction does not discriminate against race, creed, religion, sex…..we are ALL human.  Of course, part of that physical involved a urine test…and you know what that would have showed?! 

I also wasn’t keen on the thought of letting anyone else in on what I was doing.  I hadn’t even told my family yet.  I didn’t want to make a big deal about it and then, if I failed….well, you know. 

The counselor talked about other options as well; an inpatient clinic pain clinic that lasted 4 weeks in Bremerton, who had physical therapists on staff as well as medical doctors, psychiatrists, nutritionists, exercise coaches.  They were more of the full meal deal of clinics….but then again, I have to maintain working during this process.  As a very last resort, maybe. 

By the end of the meeting, I had agreed to go see the Suboxone doctor.  Understanding a little bit of medicine and therapies because of my work, I knew there were alternative therapies that could be offered and not necessarily Suboxone.  Besides, I didn’t want to wait.  I had made up my mind and needed to act before I got frustrated and changed it. 

My appointment was set for a week later.  I was not feeling well that day.  Not only did I run out of my Vicodin because I took more than I was supposed during that month, but I was sporting what was going to be a raging sinus infection and (okay guys, plug your ears and make a loud steady noise so you cannot hear this)…my body decided to start going through the change of life and I was having hot flashes at night, so I was not getting a whole lot of sleep.  If there is one thing on this earth I refuse to do without, it is my sleep.  I am usually a Jekyll, but my Hyde comes out if I don’t get enough of it (just ask my poor husband). 

So after the proverbial paperwork was completed and sitting for what I thought was an extensive period of time watching some stupid news thing on the TV that was installed at the upper part of the wall in the corner so as not to allow access to kids (or adults), I was called to the examination room.  The nurse took my vital signs, temperature and asked all the same questions that I filled out in the paperwork (why do they do that anyway?), she left the room and I was left to shuffle through the few (stupid) tattered sports magazines some other patient left in the room from before until the doctor decided to give me some time (Ya, I didn’t have any extra Vicodin that day, so my attitude was showing). 

I was pleasantly surprised.  He didn’t look physically like he had changed at all in the 15 or so years I had seen him last.  He had a quiet demeanor and he seemed very patient (R..R…R… no pun intended) and happy to see me again. 

After a few pleasantries, we got down to business.  I told him what I thought I was looking for, knowing that Suboxone was not really an option at the time, and by the time I left his office, I had prescriptions for Neurontin 600 mg twice a day and Clonidine 0.1 mg, 1 or 2 tablets three times daily.  He wrote out a schedule for weaning down on the Vicodin first on a sheet of paper for me as well. 

I always thought the Vicodin would be harder to titrate down off of than the OxyContin.  I think it is because of the instant feeling of relief that one gets from the Vicodin, but the doctor expressly stated that the OxyContin would be much harder than the Vicodin. 

So, I walked out of his office feeling pretty comforted, yet still scared.  I was still so determined to shovel myself out and get rid of my monkey (nope, can’t think of any more metaphors right now…sorry).  I went home pretty pleased with myself and took my first pills as soon as I got in the door and got to work. 

In the beginning

Well, I am new at this, as are so many of us.  I guess I will start by explaining a little bit about myself (I know, boring, huh?)

I am a 49-year-old woman, divorced twice and recently remarried.  I guess I too bought into the forever after promise, but it turned out pretty good.  When you are looking for someone at this age, your priorities are a little different.  I met him at a bar.  He was the base player in the band that was playing that night.  The table that I ended up sitting at was the band table and the lead player’s wife introduced us.  I clubbed him, drug him into my cave and made him mine.  I am about 3 years his senior, but he is so goofy, I forget that a lot of times.  He has a great sense of humor and he is very empathetic……to a fault.  We have known each other for about 6 years and were recently married last May 2010. 

I have two adult children; one who is the light of my life….a 29-year-old wonderful lady who now lives in Seattle and is working diligently on her series of books that sounds simply fantabulous, and my older daughter by a couple of years who has decided that I am not a worthy enough a person to be a part of my 1-year-old twin grandbaby’s lives (all bitterness not aside). 

So, I am just your ordinary person with an ordinary life with ordinary problems, just like anyone else.  Nothing special (unless you ask my husband.  Don’t tell him I said that, K?)

I was first diagnosed with fibromyalgia about 20 years ago.  I had a friend of mine whose husband was a professional weightlifter.  She talked me into going to the gym at 5 a.m. every morning and working out.  She warned me it would hurt and to expect it to.  A few months into it, I was doing lat pull downs while she was standing behind me and noticed that my left scapula (shoulder blade) was not moving the same as my right.  I was hurting…but I was supposed to expect that, right?  Two surgeries later, the first for what they call impingement syndrome where they take off the furthest part of the acromion bone and the other for what they call adhesive capsulitis.  I guess I am a scar builder.  Then I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia.  Fun, huh? 

At first I was a little scared.  I didn’t know what fibromyalgia was.  At least the doctor explained that it was not a progressive disease, that I would have “flares” once in a while, but it wasn’t life threatening.  That was a bit of a comfort at the time.  I got home, got on line and started ravenously looking into information about fibro and very quickly burned out.  I felt like I had filled up my brain and didn’t have room for anything else.  So, after I took some time to digest all of the information, I dug back in. 

So then I got stubborn (I am like that you know).  I didn’t like the idea of having something that wasn’t curable.  So, I tried practically everything imaginable…..therapies, mantras, positive thinking, exercise, TENS unit, heat, ice, supplements, vitamins.  I bought every book imaginable on the subject….and you know what?......I still have fibro (you thought there was going to be a happy ending, huh?). 

I then found a doctor who was willing to prescribe OxyContin.  That was back when the FDA told us that it was not addictive.  I have since learned that the FDA doesn’t know everything and not to trust them.  At first it was just a pill a day.  I am a medical transcriptionist and I sit all day.  You would think that would be an easy job, but let me tell you….it isn’t.  It is just as hard on the body to sit all day as it is to be strenuously active.  It stresses muscles in the body to hold the same position for long periods of time.  My doctor told me, “Get up every few minutes and stretch and move around.”  Yea, right.  Once I get involved in the notes and the stories of patients I am typing, time just slips away.  Before I know it, I have been sitting for an hour and it takes me a few minutes to stand upright. 

So back to the OxyContin stuff….

At first it was great.  I could get some relief from my discomfort and have the ability to do my job more effectively.  But after a short period of time I was going back to that doctor telling her that it was not enough…that if I could take 2 a day, it would afford me so much more relief and then I could manage my home life after work easier.  Guess what, she agreed.  So, 2 pills a day was great…..for a while.  You know how that is going to progress....

Before I knew it, I was taking 3 pills of OxyContin 10 mg per day and then I don't know how many oxcodone for breakthrough pain.  At first I thought it was great to have relief so that I could live my life and I had myself convinced that without the pills, I was unable to work.  It was my reason for not going on disability.  Being the prideful person I am, I thought it was the answer all to my delemma.  I felt great!  I could get through my work day, get through my responsibilites as a mother and a wife and still have energy and time for other activities that fulfilled my life.  So, I lived like this for about 20 years. 

I ended up losing one of my doctors.  For some reason, he just wasn't there anymore.  I called to make my scheduled monthly appointment and was told he was no longer living in town.  Strange, huh?  I panicked and scrambled to find another doctor who would prescribe my pills and quickly found out about the social stigma of what I was doing.  Not ALL doctors were so quick to help me out.  A creapy shameful feeling began to sweep over me and I felt that what I was doing was wrong in some way, but didn't understand why.  If my own doctor was so quick to increase my doses every time I squeaked out any verbal complaint of pain, why was it so hard to find another doctor to do so? 

Thus, began the grim cycle.  It was a terrible feeling to think that not only was I going to have to do without my magic pills, but my ability to work was at risk as well.  It made me feel sick and ashamed.....but I wasn't doing anything wrong, right? 

I finally found another doctor who would help me out.  He was referred to me by the very kind nursing staff at the doctor's office I was going to, the doctor we could no longer find.  I called and was told that he will accept some of the other doctor's patients, but I would have to come in to see him and find out.  So that is what I did. 

Scared and nervous, I scheduled my appointment and arrived to his office in hopes that he would too be the kind of doctor that would understand how important it was for me to have these pills.  It didn't take but a few minutes and I was marching out of his office with my scripts on my way to the pharmacy, relieved and happy my life wasn't going to end.....and life went on. 

I spent the next number of years hiding the fact that I was on these medications from my friends and family, but I didn't care.  In my mind, it was the answer all and I was determined to live my life in comfort.  I didn't want my fibromyalgia to take over.  The relief I felt was well worth the cost.  It took me almost 20 years to realize what I was doing to myself. 

After a few years went by, I started hearing stuff in the news about OxyContin and how "they" determined that it was addictive after all.  (Oh boy!  Great news, right?).  By that time, I had been on them for so many years, I figured I was a hopeless case and would have to continue them if I wanted to work and enjoy my life, even though down deep, I was scared of my doctor ever retiring or; God forbid, moves out of town without notice. 

I began to slowly realize, though, that what I had done was probably not the best thing for me.....that maybe holding onto the thought that it was my only option was also the worst option.  I started ravenously buying self help books and reading news articles and studies from prominent hospitals to educate myself more.  More and more I began realizing what a hole I had dug for myself and I wasn't sure how I was going to get out. 

That is pretty much the long and the short of it.  This is where I am now....in my hole.....anyone got a shovel? 

Maybe there is a life after drugs.  I see alcoholics and drug addicts recover all the time...all those success stories.  I have come to the conclusion (I know...at least at this time in my life) that want to be a part of that mindset.  I feel like crap if I don't take the drugs.  Is that because of the fibro, or because of the addiction?  I am not really sure, but I want to find out.  I need to know what it feels like to have a clear mind, a clear though and a life without drugs.  This can't be all there is....(well, maybe it is, but I am a helpless romantic and stubborn). 

I am truly exhauste trying to live my life around drugs.  I have to go in every month to get my new prescriptions.  They have to be written.  The doctor cannot just call them in.  I get looks and the attitude from the pharmacists and technicians at the pharmacy all the time and it shames and angers me.  When I come to the end of my montly prescription, I almost panic to think that I might have taken more than what the doctor prescribed for a day or two during that month because I was hurting more, and that I will run short before I can get my new scripts.....and when I do run short, the withdrawal symptoms are not nearly worth the few days of relief I got. 

So this is where I am at today.  It is time that I see what life is like with a clear mind.  I want to shovel out of the hole I made for myself and stop living in shame and fear.  I won't lie to you, though.  I am scared.  I am used to getting what I set my mind to getting.  I am not used to failure.  It doesn't feel good. 

I want to write this during the time I go through it.  I want to share my experience in hopes that it might help someone else out who is thinking the same way.  Even if I don't succeed, maybe you will.  That will make this worth it to me.