Well, I made it. Not long after I wrote that last one did I get a phone call. I spent some time on the phone, doing what I could to con an overpaid idiot into thinking I deserve a job, when I hung up and noticed instantly the overwhelming and electric feeling of no return. I could feel the puzzle coming apart, and not just with the pieces being gently snapped out of place, but being forced in two just like I’ve seen so many times with Narcan.
Here we fucking go.
What do I do? Do I take more buprenorphine? Do I leave it alone? How do I prepare? Why didn’t I just wait a little longer? Maybe if I go back to what I was doing, I’ll be ok….?
About 20 minutes later, after the initial panic had passed, I noticed that things weren’t that bad. I know for certain that what I was feeling were the beginnings of what I’ve warned against so many times before; a total opiate breakdown where the dope is pushed from the receptors by the buprenorphine, leaving the user completely and totally junk sick with no where to go but down. I’ve heard tales of those who wanted to die and have seen what awful consequence Narcan can have on a dope-loaded body. Thank fucking god it wasn’t me. I have to admit, I wasn’t all that sick when I made the switch. I just did what I could to make sure that it had been around 12 hours since my last dose of opiates and that I had the chills, a little bone crunch, and that I was well past the yawns and teary eyes. I’m willing to bet that if I’d taken more bup than the small amount I did, or if I’d taken it just an hour or two earlier, I would’ve been in sorry shape.
So now here I am, sitting in the Orange haze that is my life. It’s nice to be back, or at least less stressful.
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