(no subject)
back to the rest of my story. where did i leave off ? i think it was around stealing from my mom, that being my cry for help, walking to my sister's house and telling her what really was happening with me.
so, i go to my oldest sister jamey and i tell her that i am addicted to heroin. i shoot it up. i have to have it everyday to even function; if i don't i'm lying wherever puking my guts out, shitting my ass off, shaking intensely, i have a fever but i'm cold, i hurt all over with cramps and aches, i've got the sweats, i can't get comfortable because i have a "restless leg syndrome" type ordeal. i could go on but the list would be severly long. not as severe as my symptoms, but i think you get it. okay, so i tell her, right ? and she tells me to call her on thursday because she was going to devote her time to getting me some help, which then i cry some more, tell her how much i love her, and thank her for her concern. so i call her on thursday and she tells me to meet me at her house the next morning, which i do. we go down the road to prestera in dunbar and i fill out my paperwork, i have an appointment in a few days at 12:30-- which i miss because i don't have a ride or a phone to call her. but that day i had the appointment i had been two days clean and feeling awful. i hadn't slept, i was insanely sick and she had told me before that if i were having withdrawals to call her and she would take me to the emergency room.
well, we go to the tattoo shop that day because hippie picked us up everyday at 1:45, and i call her within an hour of being there. i tell her what bad shape i'm in and she comes and takes me to thomas hospital.
now this rest of the day is the point in my life which i'd like to call "hell":
we arrive to the hospital roughly around 3:00 pm. i fill out my paperwork, see the triage nurse, get registered and then wait. and wait. and wait. and wait. now, i'm definitely not expecting the "royal treatment" or anything here, DEFINITELY considering i'm a drug addict with no health insurance, but people were in and out as i was sitting there experiencing all the symptoms i listed previously. people came and people left. i sat there until 7:45 pm. i sat there puking and shaking for almost five hours as people that had been there 30 minutes were called back and seen. my mom came. she gave me a hug. we cried. she called my other sister, erin, telling her what was going on and i overheard the words, "laura looks like SHIT, it took over her." -- that's all i can remember hearing from that conversation. it was almost like i was in a dream. all the sounds weren't quite registering and all the people seemed to not really be there. but all eyes were on me it seemed as i was constantly changing my position, running to the bathroom, and sweating and shaking.
finally i hear the name "laura cunningham" come from the other side of room, to which i'm led back into the emergency room to the "south end" where all the mental cases, alcoholics, and substance abusers go to. i am escorted to a lovely (ha) four walled room with just a bed in the middle of it. it's dirty. there's gum stuck to the floor and two or three nats flying in it. "this is a hospital room ?" were my first thoughts. sanitation ? sterilization ? no wait. i don't have insurance and i am but a mere drug addict, the lowest on the human race hierarchy, this is what i deserve.
writing about this is emotionally exhausting, so i'll write more later.
so, i go to my oldest sister jamey and i tell her that i am addicted to heroin. i shoot it up. i have to have it everyday to even function; if i don't i'm lying wherever puking my guts out, shitting my ass off, shaking intensely, i have a fever but i'm cold, i hurt all over with cramps and aches, i've got the sweats, i can't get comfortable because i have a "restless leg syndrome" type ordeal. i could go on but the list would be severly long. not as severe as my symptoms, but i think you get it. okay, so i tell her, right ? and she tells me to call her on thursday because she was going to devote her time to getting me some help, which then i cry some more, tell her how much i love her, and thank her for her concern. so i call her on thursday and she tells me to meet me at her house the next morning, which i do. we go down the road to prestera in dunbar and i fill out my paperwork, i have an appointment in a few days at 12:30-- which i miss because i don't have a ride or a phone to call her. but that day i had the appointment i had been two days clean and feeling awful. i hadn't slept, i was insanely sick and she had told me before that if i were having withdrawals to call her and she would take me to the emergency room.
well, we go to the tattoo shop that day because hippie picked us up everyday at 1:45, and i call her within an hour of being there. i tell her what bad shape i'm in and she comes and takes me to thomas hospital.
now this rest of the day is the point in my life which i'd like to call "hell":
we arrive to the hospital roughly around 3:00 pm. i fill out my paperwork, see the triage nurse, get registered and then wait. and wait. and wait. and wait. now, i'm definitely not expecting the "royal treatment" or anything here, DEFINITELY considering i'm a drug addict with no health insurance, but people were in and out as i was sitting there experiencing all the symptoms i listed previously. people came and people left. i sat there until 7:45 pm. i sat there puking and shaking for almost five hours as people that had been there 30 minutes were called back and seen. my mom came. she gave me a hug. we cried. she called my other sister, erin, telling her what was going on and i overheard the words, "laura looks like SHIT, it took over her." -- that's all i can remember hearing from that conversation. it was almost like i was in a dream. all the sounds weren't quite registering and all the people seemed to not really be there. but all eyes were on me it seemed as i was constantly changing my position, running to the bathroom, and sweating and shaking.
finally i hear the name "laura cunningham" come from the other side of room, to which i'm led back into the emergency room to the "south end" where all the mental cases, alcoholics, and substance abusers go to. i am escorted to a lovely (ha) four walled room with just a bed in the middle of it. it's dirty. there's gum stuck to the floor and two or three nats flying in it. "this is a hospital room ?" were my first thoughts. sanitation ? sterilization ? no wait. i don't have insurance and i am but a mere drug addict, the lowest on the human race hierarchy, this is what i deserve.
writing about this is emotionally exhausting, so i'll write more later.