The reason I have decided to write about this is two fold. One, to help myself see my state of mind and the changes that took place over a period of time. Two, to show anyone that the risk of complacency should always be kept in mind. As a bit of background, I have had a problem with drugs (heroin, amphetamines) and alcohol most of my life.
At over 2 years sober (and happy) my mum was diagnosed with terminal cancer we were told in August that she had months and not years to live. In a way it was kind of expected as she has had cancer before and I had always felt she was living on borrowed time. The reality of it happening however had a profound effect on me. My anxiety returned, fear of the future started haunting me again (both of these symptoms had completely disappeared when I quit drinking) and the upshot of it all was that I had no clue how to really deal with it. Yes, I havent always had a smooth ride in the last two years, so to a degree, I could deal with anxiety but not the prospect of losing my mum to a dreadful illness and the fear and unknown that went with that. Outwardly it appeared that I was coping well, her health deteriorated incredibly quickly and my role as carer overtook my life totally. I had to stop work and move into mums house to look after her. This in itself was quite astounding because we have not always had the smoothest of relationships and I never ever thought I would be able to be a full time carer for her. Anyway, I am jumping the gun a bit. When she was diagnosed my immediate reaction was ?how do I cope?. Well to my shame I went straight to her medicine cabinet and took the opiates she had been given during her last bout of treatment. I knew she would neither miss these or be aware I had taken them. I started using these to take the edge of my angst. Not every day, but when things got very bad (this is killing me writing this.....) As the days went on, her health worsened and we had to face the prospect that she would die pretty soon. This actually meant talking about things. Not easy for me and not easy for her either. She was also prescribed morphine to combat her symptoms. It was me that gave her medicines to her. So, I had a dose for me, a dose for her. The thing is I NEVER once got high, it just took away my anxiety or lessened it. I was also prescribed valium from the doctors....still no high. I am so thankful for that. So we carried on, her becoming more infirm daily and me managing her affairs, the goodbyes with her friends and family and my own fears and grief. Towards the end of her illness, two days I think, she began to be unable to swallow. The doctor prescribed a cocktail of drugs including heroin, to be taken intravenously, within hours of taking these she had lapsed into unconsciousness. The following day she died. Her diagnosis to death had taken less than two months. There was still half a bottle of morphine left that I knew I would finish off, but I assumed that the nurses/doctors would take the remaining drugs away. They didnt. The moment I knew they were staying was the moment I knew I would take them. I researched the drugs I wasnt familiar with on the internet and I tucked into the ones I was....just like the old days. That desire, excitement, fear etc had never gone away, just been quietened over the years. (I have not had heroin for over 20 years) I loved it. I was relaxed, happy, high and in no way acting like anyone who had just lost her mother. This is horrendous to write about.....Of course I over did it, and was incredibly ill the next day. Vomiting bile and blood, I really felt like I was going to die. I barely remember the following day, people rang, texted but I was unable to press the right buttons to answer the phone. Then in the afternoon, Zenny called. I dont remember what she said either. Mr Starts was looking after me, trying to get me to drink water and holding the bucket when I was sick....he also took all the drugs and disposed of them which was a relief to me. Once they were gone they were gone.
I think my point to this story is that for me, once an addict, always an addict. Whether it be drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, behaviours. It is something in my personality that has to be kept in check or it becomes out of control.
A couple of weeks later I went to Ireland to meet up with a number of good friends from here. A few of them knew what had happened, some of them didnt. I decided one night to tell them everything. Getting it all out was like a weight off my shoulders. No one condemned me but the concern and horror was absolutely humbling. Oney asked me that weekend, if the same situation happened again, would I do the same thing. Without a moments hesitation I said ?yes? and thats when I realised how much trouble I was in. My mindset had changed completely from strong, capable and sober to looking for crutches to deal with my problems.
Since that weekend, I have been concentrating on my thought patterns and my spiritual side to help me deal with my grief. It has helped. My dear friends here have been such a constant source of encouragement and support and for that I thank you, deeply.
For me, I know I need to work harder on my sobriety, I need to up the game on my wellbeing in every way and keep that as my top priority. Its true that not every day we lose someone close, but sometimes less traumatic problems can feel overwhelming and we are not prepared to deal with them.
Anyway if this story helps anyone in any way it will have been worth it to share. I think it has helped me to write it. At the moment I am reliving the horror of that time, but I hope that it will ultimately help me too.
Thank you for reading
At over 2 years sober (and happy) my mum was diagnosed with terminal cancer we were told in August that she had months and not years to live. In a way it was kind of expected as she has had cancer before and I had always felt she was living on borrowed time. The reality of it happening however had a profound effect on me. My anxiety returned, fear of the future started haunting me again (both of these symptoms had completely disappeared when I quit drinking) and the upshot of it all was that I had no clue how to really deal with it. Yes, I havent always had a smooth ride in the last two years, so to a degree, I could deal with anxiety but not the prospect of losing my mum to a dreadful illness and the fear and unknown that went with that. Outwardly it appeared that I was coping well, her health deteriorated incredibly quickly and my role as carer overtook my life totally. I had to stop work and move into mums house to look after her. This in itself was quite astounding because we have not always had the smoothest of relationships and I never ever thought I would be able to be a full time carer for her. Anyway, I am jumping the gun a bit. When she was diagnosed my immediate reaction was ?how do I cope?. Well to my shame I went straight to her medicine cabinet and took the opiates she had been given during her last bout of treatment. I knew she would neither miss these or be aware I had taken them. I started using these to take the edge of my angst. Not every day, but when things got very bad (this is killing me writing this.....) As the days went on, her health worsened and we had to face the prospect that she would die pretty soon. This actually meant talking about things. Not easy for me and not easy for her either. She was also prescribed morphine to combat her symptoms. It was me that gave her medicines to her. So, I had a dose for me, a dose for her. The thing is I NEVER once got high, it just took away my anxiety or lessened it. I was also prescribed valium from the doctors....still no high. I am so thankful for that. So we carried on, her becoming more infirm daily and me managing her affairs, the goodbyes with her friends and family and my own fears and grief. Towards the end of her illness, two days I think, she began to be unable to swallow. The doctor prescribed a cocktail of drugs including heroin, to be taken intravenously, within hours of taking these she had lapsed into unconsciousness. The following day she died. Her diagnosis to death had taken less than two months. There was still half a bottle of morphine left that I knew I would finish off, but I assumed that the nurses/doctors would take the remaining drugs away. They didnt. The moment I knew they were staying was the moment I knew I would take them. I researched the drugs I wasnt familiar with on the internet and I tucked into the ones I was....just like the old days. That desire, excitement, fear etc had never gone away, just been quietened over the years. (I have not had heroin for over 20 years) I loved it. I was relaxed, happy, high and in no way acting like anyone who had just lost her mother. This is horrendous to write about.....Of course I over did it, and was incredibly ill the next day. Vomiting bile and blood, I really felt like I was going to die. I barely remember the following day, people rang, texted but I was unable to press the right buttons to answer the phone. Then in the afternoon, Zenny called. I dont remember what she said either. Mr Starts was looking after me, trying to get me to drink water and holding the bucket when I was sick....he also took all the drugs and disposed of them which was a relief to me. Once they were gone they were gone.
I think my point to this story is that for me, once an addict, always an addict. Whether it be drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, behaviours. It is something in my personality that has to be kept in check or it becomes out of control.
A couple of weeks later I went to Ireland to meet up with a number of good friends from here. A few of them knew what had happened, some of them didnt. I decided one night to tell them everything. Getting it all out was like a weight off my shoulders. No one condemned me but the concern and horror was absolutely humbling. Oney asked me that weekend, if the same situation happened again, would I do the same thing. Without a moments hesitation I said ?yes? and thats when I realised how much trouble I was in. My mindset had changed completely from strong, capable and sober to looking for crutches to deal with my problems.
Since that weekend, I have been concentrating on my thought patterns and my spiritual side to help me deal with my grief. It has helped. My dear friends here have been such a constant source of encouragement and support and for that I thank you, deeply.
For me, I know I need to work harder on my sobriety, I need to up the game on my wellbeing in every way and keep that as my top priority. Its true that not every day we lose someone close, but sometimes less traumatic problems can feel overwhelming and we are not prepared to deal with them.
Anyway if this story helps anyone in any way it will have been worth it to share. I think it has helped me to write it. At the moment I am reliving the horror of that time, but I hope that it will ultimately help me too.
Thank you for reading
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