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Thanks so much for replying.
You know, I've been getting oxys (40 & 80mg) off the street ($25 & $50) for better than two years. Last summer, I awakened with a numb left arm and hand (which went away after about a month) and an MRI showed it was caused by a herniated disc. So I was sent to a doctor who prescribes me 90 percocet (10/325 oxycodone) a month. I trade these at $4 each and I get 7 80mg oxys, which last a few days. It's the one break in the month I get from not having to worry if I'll make enough tips not to have withdrawals the next day.
In trying to get my doctor to give me oxycontin, I told him the percocet (three a day) and Soma (two a night) he prescribes wasn't lasting long enough. He said he no longer prescribes oxycontin because too many folks abuse it, and he gave me this fentanyl patch (25mg, one every three days.)
All I know is I have to get off these oxys before I follow in my brother's footsteps and take my life over them. The suboxone was the best thing I ever found, and I ruined that, of course. I wasn't ready to get off the oxys and I only took them when I couldn't get anything else. Of course I missed my next appointment with the sub doctor so he dropped me and won't take me again. He was an hour and a half away, and I can't find one now within a two hours drive. You don't know how much I wish I hadn't blown that chance I had.
My husband pays all the bills for the family including the upkeep of our (6 bedroom, 4 bath) home and four children. He does a beautiful job. And now he of course wants a divorce, as I can't appreciate any of this without my friggin dope. I don't know how this happened to me, I swear I don't. All my husband asks is that I pay for my own personal things, cigarettes and whatever - makeup, etc. I can't even do that. If I make, say, $60. in tips a night, I drive to my dealers and dump it all out and we see how much (oxy) I can get, and that's it for another day. On my two days off, I do the same but use my $75./week paycheck (it's terrible having those days off; I really have to taper) unless I can get someone to let me work for them.
This is not living at all; this is existing and quite miserably.
I can't even think about what I would have if I'd kept all the money I spend on oxys. I haven't bought so much as a pair of socks in two years, and when I need like toothpaste or shampoo, it's a real crisis for me. My gastank is always on Empty and my savings account consists of a half-full-of-pennis milk jar sitting on my desk (my husband has long ago taken my name off the checking and savings accounts, of course.) My daughters (twins 16, one 15) know I do "something wrong" with my money, my husband says as much in front of them. My son, though, (he's eight) thinks I hang the moon and I want to do this for him so badly. I just, I love that child so much it hurts. Every month or so when I decide I have to quit, I'll tell him that I'm going to start saving so he and I can go to Universal Studios this summer - we used to take the girls every year before my brother killed himself but my son's never been; I don't do vacations anymore. I can't even take him and me to the movies or for an ice cream and it hurts so bad. He loves me, though, and says it doesn't matter. When we got our income tax refund (we split it) I used it all to buy oxys and didn't save enough to take him to buy this skateboard ramp ($20) he wanted. When it came time to go get it, he must've known I didn't have it, as he told me he'd just as soon us take the dog to the park for a walk than to go to WalMart for the ramp. I wanted to cry. I snorted an 80, we took Gracie to Imagination Station for a walk, and I didn't have to give up any of my precious drug money.... impressive, huh? Impressive like a corpse, maybe. Nobody'd want to "live" like this, noone should have to.
My husband gave me several chances after Steven died; it's not like he's throwing me out on my ear. But you can only trust a drug addict's lies so many times, I realize. I never take the twins to their events (and there are so many) or the younger daughter to ball practice or school functions. I do take Andrew, or volunteer to take him, places but my husband is wary of letting me drive him around since I'm such a doper. He built himself a bedroom on the other side of the house a few years ago and I guess I should've known the divorce demand was coming, but still it's surprising, somehow... just can't believe I really threw it all away.
I'm always trying new (stupid) ways to get off this stuff (cold turkey is - well you know what it is.) It's hard for me to have withdrawls and do my job; waiting tables takes a little patience and wit and I have lots of neither when I'm detoxing. Last month I deduced that from oxycontin I derive (a) energy and (b) a buzz. So I got some Didrex (diet pills, uppers) and some good marijuana and reasoned that I could just take the pills for the energy and the pot for the high and viola, no more addiction to oxy! Needless to say, I then found myself popping a dridrex, toking a joint, and snorting an oxy all at once. Good, Tonnie..... perhaps I should've sniffed a little glue to've made it a grand slam.
I'm sorry for the what-a-loser-I-am post, really. I just, I thought it was nice that someone remembered me and I wanted to let you know how things are for me (in case anyone's keeping score, I'm losing big time.) I wish all of you continued success in your individual journeys; believe that I've prayed for us one and all so many times. If anyone can see anything I'm doing wrong, do let me know; God knows I need some help.
Thanks so much for listening, guys, that really is nice.
Your Friend,
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"God bless us every one."

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