Drug Addiction Stories

This was truly fucked up, the doctor was prescribing morphine injections for the pain, just after I had completed a detox and managed to get off of the drugs.  I guess I failed to mention that I was once hooked on that.  At this point I did not care anymore, I just lost one of my best friends in what was the most freakish accident I have ever been in.  My other friend is hanging on for dear life in the hospital’s intensive care unit.  I did not know what to think anymore.  I was set for release from the hospital in a few days and my parents wanted me to stay with them while I attend my physiotherapy.  I had nothing to do in the hospital but think of what had happened and could not believe my own luck.  I truly thought I was on the right path and would manage to beat this; now I am back at square one all over again.  When I left the hospital the doctor gave me a script for some OxyContin and sent me on my way.  My parents had a room set up for me in their house; even though I was not stoked on staying with them, they would not take no for an answer.

The doctor prescribed me Oxycontin, which turned rapidly into an addiction.

Things never changed one bit; I was getting myself hooked on pain pills again, and was truly at a point where I did not care anymore.  My leg was absolutely mangled and the pain was getting worse.  The therapy was difficult and it was very slow to start, I did not have really any movement in my leg for the first couple of months.  When the brace came off of my leg, I started doing more at physiotherapy.  Unfortunately, that was six months into my recovery and I was already taking around 100mg of Oxy’s each day.  My parents were completely indifferent to the matter, and I managed to keep getting the scripts filled, and even bought some off of the street.  One of my old dealers would come by the house and make some drops.  I was managing to get booze dropped off to me when I could; basically trying to do everything to numb what I was feeling.  When my father got home that day from work, I was sitting outside on the back porch.  He came over and I knew exactly what he was going to say.  He was giving me updates about my other friend who was intensive care.  Unfortunately, two weeks after I got released from the hospital, he slipped into a coma, and my father told me today that he died due to unforeseeable complications.

I was so numb from the drugs that it never registered with me; I did not want to think about it because I wanted to join them when I thought about it.  My OxyContin intake had increased and I was getting more mobility in my leg, which was allowing me to now leave the house and go out.  I was soon running out of cash, and I knew I could not go to my parents and get money from them.  That would set them off for sure, and most likely I would be looking for a new place to live.  I picked up where I left off at the restaurant, and took on part time hours working behind the bar.  These part time hours gave me the money I needed to keep the drugs in my system.  My parents were starting to ask questions, but I knew nothing I said could fool them anymore; they had been through too much.  I think they were just waiting for me to get healed up completely before they approached me with moving out again.  Fortunately, an opportunity came up, and I was offered a room by a co-worker who was looking for a roommate.  I took the offer and immediately moved out; I never got much of a fight from my parents, they knew what I was doing.  I saw my parents being in the same position that I was in, not caring, but I would later find out that this was not true; my parents did care about me, no matter what I was doing to myself.