As some of you may know from reading this blog perhaps and the threads i've posted (on behalf of SWIM), on the forum my friend SWIM is trying to get off crack-cocaine and heroin....She finally made some progress by making it down to the local drop-in clinic and seeing a councellor who is arranging for SWIM to get a methadone script next Tuesday.
Although that is only a week away and doesn't seem like a particularly long time, those of SWIY's who've experienced addiction will know that a week can seem like forever....especially when you're skint.
SWIM had a fair old wad of money on Wednesday and had to make a decision. With no funds comming for another ten days she could either split what she had into smaller sums (enough to buy drugs and keep her feeling well, for the week leading up to getting her script), or blow it all on one big session. The thought of heroin withdrawals scare the crap outta SWIM but this time she knew she was gonna have about 100 30mg MST tablets available on the Friday and as many Tramadol as she could possibly want.
SWIM hadn't had any MST for about two or three weeks but last time she did she was able to switch over from heroin to morphine without any noticable side effects or withdrawal.
So the junkie in SWIM won the toss and SWIM made a day of it on Wednesday....binge session: £300 in one day.......silly thing was that on the previous Monday she'd spent only £100 and actually enjoyed it more. Typical.
Anyway SWIM tells me she was up all night on Wednesday feeling pretty good and slept all through Thursday until she woke up Thursday night really craving something sweet.....(since getting into heroin in a big way SWIM has developed a bit of a sweet tooth: when she's not taking or thinking about heroin she's got cakes on her mind), so she got three bags of sweets from the corner shop and stretched out in front of the telly: cabbaged until about four o'clock in the morning (Big Brother, Supernatural and Jeremy Kyle were all enjoyed).
SWIM reckons she finally dragged her ass to bed at about four am but couldn't bloody sleep...she was tossing and turning, only getting ten minutes here and there.....then she woke up Friday morning and felt absolutely crap....shivering and shaking SWIMs joints were all killing her. This is the worst SWIM has ever felt from heroin withdrawals.
SWIM lay in bed for about three hours in this pathetic state, not wanting to get up and face the world but knowing if she didn't that she wouldn't be able to get the morphine pills (doctors surgery shuts on Saturday) or money for the weekend (bank too shuts on a Saturday) until Monday morning (SWIM had a fiver in the bank that she wanted to use to get cider to have with the MST - sad life, isn't it?!).
So SWIM literally dragged herself there....it's only a ten minute journey to the chemist and then the bank but SWIM tells me it was the longest walk of the life. God only knows what the cashier thought of her...SWIM hadn't had time to wash her hair so shoved on an Arsenal beenie, threw on a coat too that does right up to cover as much of herself as possible...entered the bank with eyes and nose streaming....water comming our of every orifice...not a good look for the summer!
SWIM got home and popped four of these magical little pills and waited for the miracle recovery to begin..........ten minutes later: nothing........half an hour: nothing........an hour: nothing.
Well, this is unexpected.....SWIM took another four pills and waited.....ten minutes: nothing.....half and hour: nothing........
SWIMs boyfriend came home and pulled out a twenty pound rock of crack....SWIM perked up.
Ten minutes later and both SWIM and her boyfriend are pacing the living room: the rock has been smoked and SWIM feels worse than ever....she pops another two MST but now she's gagging for a pipe on top of the heroin withdrawals.
WHY AREN'T THE BLOODY MST WORKING???!
Those were the words that were screaming in SWIMs head over and over again. SWIM is starting to panic a bit by this stage....one word is in her head: HEROIN.....
The goddamn morphine ain't gonna do it this time and SWIM needs a fix to fix herself.
SWIM begs her boyfriend to do something, anything.
SWIM's boyfriend can't stand to watch SWIM go through it......so.........he only goes and sells his top of the range mobile phone for a twenty and a twenty (ie twenty brown and twenty white).
SWIM's bf goes to meet dealer, meanwhile the MST are starting to work a little bit (seriously though, only a little bit).
Its 8pm now and SWIM is well sort of ok: second rock smoked and brown in the process of being consumed.
She's dreading tommorrow though..........the guilt over the whole mobile phone escapade is gonna hit home, plus now she really is skint and she's scared that the Morphine aren't gonna work.
SWIM really feels like a down and out no good junkie.............
Roll on Tuesday and that methadone script.........
HEROIN IS EVIL.