The 30 hour mark for methadone is notorious for its difficulty, so tonight at just half past midnight is when the toughest times are anticipated to *begin*. Is that scaring me? Yes. Do I think I will emerge victorious in my battle against the Demon Opiates? Yes, indeed. Else I would not have "jumped off" to begin with. According to the written schedule I drew up over a week ago, I was so scared as to give each new level of methadone dosage FIVE days... Yet I decided last night to give the 10 mg level short shrift and only ONE day of experience.
My hands are twitching so much that I may actually have to run spellcheck.
We won't discuss my legs except to say that were my feet able to stand the feel of shoes, balletic toe shoes (size 15) might just slip right on. My toes seem to fusing...
And my knees are somehow imploding, bending backward.
And, yep, I am testing those knees every time the half-bath -- just 15 feet away -- calls.
And, yep, Fred is up to speed and greatly encouraging. I believe that my earlier read on The Fredster was Demon-Driven. Was I setting him and myself up as the excuse of my failure? I damned well think I was. But no more. Let's just say that I remembered, just in time, that Fred was raised on cowboy movies and cowboy philosophy, and that he cannot be envisioned in anything but a white hat.
Possibly the weirdest symptom of this withdrawal is how COLD I feel.
COLD in terms of temperature, You Numbnuts! I woke covered by heavy blankets, something that I just don't do. Always, I feel HOT, stifled by CRPS and its attendant pains. I even dialed down the temp for the air conditioner, again something that I just don't do.
The worst symptom is exactly the reason for which I began taking methadone to begin with, and that is PAIN. I feel every ache, every lancinating bit of neuropathic sadomasochism. It's the only thing reminding me of the despairing truth -- that I will have to find a new way to control pain if the new ketamine regime fails. The only thing I know for sure is that it will not be what the doctor there wants me on -- Prialt. I cannot see having that stuff injected into my spine, and you betcha, I am scared to death of the side effects.
[Chief among them being an apparent predilection for suicide.]
Anyway... though I've much that wants to be written -- most of it about the French Open, some of it about the recent USAmerican drone strike that killed Ilyas Kashmiri -- my focus right now is laser lit on my various time pieces.
Because this methadone addict "jumped off" last night at precisely 6:30 PM.
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