The feeling comes daily. The waiting for it. Seeing it ready for injection. Watching the needle pierce the skin. Yes, I am, at least for now, a junkie.
I did not expect to be telling you this. I did not expect to be telling anyone this. But here I am. Ready for another injection.
Every night about eight-thirty or so I have another hit. I inject it. I go lay down on the couch. I am done for the night. Just me and the feeling brought on by the needle. You can call me a junkie. It fits. Well, kinda sorta.
I normally take warfarin. (My gateway drug.) But when I am going in for something that is going to cut or snip or take a risk for those things they, my doctor and the nurses, take me off the warfarin and switch to an injected formulation. The pill form takes some time to build up and taper off. The needle drug goes away in a day. The drug is an anticoagulant, aka a blood thinner. I had to switch it out because of (the favorite of every person over 50) a colonoscopy.
I thought I would be off of the injectable version. Maybe tomorrow. In truth, I do not understand how someone takes a needle drug for recreation. Damn, it is a pain. Injecting yourself is a pain.
Maybe tomorrow. I hope so. The month will end. So will my junkie behavior
— MichaelRpdx
A year or two after I graduated and was reading an art journal. (sorry, I do not recall the name) they ran an article well a photo essay on heroin users. Then I turned a page and there she was, one of my classmates. Being the naive person that I was I had no idea.