joannebest











{May 1, 2013}   Addiction

That stupid annoying bell on the door jingles everytime it moves and after two weeks off for Christmas the waiting room is full.
Full to the point of nowhere to sit in a room lined with chairs along three out of four walls.
Every seat is taken. The rules of courtesy don’t apply to junkies and lets face it, every single person in the room, including my own damn self, is a junkie in one form or another. Sniffling scratching fidgeting, everyone has their own little tics but nobody is inclined to let me sit my ass down and I’m as agitated as any of them.
Pain management. Pain leads to pain pills leads to doctor shopping leads to cruising the streets of Elizabeth for a bag of dope if you’re not careful and fuck that shit.
I’m done with all of that and sick to death of these monthly doctor appointments to get anti-drug drugs and a do-not-smoke-cigarettes lecture on top of it.
I watch everyone covertly, feeling simultaneous sorrow and anger at each person. Judgmental isn’t my usual default mode but being stuck in a roomfull of people playing the system just to get high pisses me off mightily these days.
Stupid Suboxone to get you off opiates is nothing more than switching addictions and I’ve been taking myself off of them a lot faster than the doctor knows, cutting my dose in half and dealing with the pain by ignoring it.
I pretend it works, lie to my doctor and walk out the door, that stupid bell jingle-jangling behind me.
Another month’s worth of meds I don’t want to take, along with a heaping pile of leftover-junkie-guilt stuffed in my pocket.
I light a cigarette the minute I get in my car.

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