Return of the prodigal daughter
Dear readers, I am going on vacation. I would love for you to post some comments or questions here. What treatment options are available where you live? I am noticing that in many parts of the word, treatment options are very limited.
In the depths of my addiction, I only went home one time in 1993. I came home a week after my brother wedding. In fact, no one was planning to be at the house. I did a farewell to San Francisco hit of speed before I got on the airplane. I was so paranoid the whole flight. I believe I ordered some booze to take the edge off. I arrived at the airport to realize I had not idea how I was going to get to West Chester. I was in Kentucky. I was at least one state and an hour drive away from my destination. Getting home was going to take some serious effort on my part with no money.
I took a free hotel shuttle to downtown Cincinnati. Then, tweaking out of my mind, I walked from downtown beyond Eden Park so two to four miles through all the worst areas downtown. Downtown Cincinnati has a burnt out bomb shelter feel with all the old brick building that get heated in the summertime. All the residents flock outside. You have you state liquor store next to the plasma center so the low bottom drunks can get their bottle of wild Irish Rose. There is a methadone clinic and pharmacy of ill repute known to sell you codeine cough syrup with out a prescription. Cincinnati had no needle exchange when i lived there. Someone knew someone who was a diabetic. you would get one needle and use it over and over until it started to pull your skin back. You would sharpen it on a matchbook and prey that it didn't break off in someone else's arm before you got your hit. It had a mix of punk rockers and hobos, gays and conservative Christians. It was the intersection of the South, the North, and the gateway to the dysfunction junction known to me as my parents house. There are all sorts of dead end alleys and housing project with gated exits. A person could get lost in there and never come out. San Francisco was my mousetrap but many a soul was lost on Race Street.
I caught a bus to Kenwood mall and hitch hiked to my parents. The house was dark. It is so dark there. few street lights. The only night creatures are animals, not people. I was so uncomfortable I walked a mile to the gas station to get a Dr. Pepper. When I finally slept, I felt old. I got so sick when I was there detoxing. I had thrush and the doctors were afraid to touch me in the local medical clinic. There were so sure I had AIDS. I told my mother "I am a bi-sexual junkie prostitute out in SF and if you can't accept me, I am going to hop the first freight train home." My mom told me "I think you need some rest." and slowly closed the door.
Dear readers, I am going off in search of some rest but I will return next week.
In the depths of my addiction, I only went home one time in 1993. I came home a week after my brother wedding. In fact, no one was planning to be at the house. I did a farewell to San Francisco hit of speed before I got on the airplane. I was so paranoid the whole flight. I believe I ordered some booze to take the edge off. I arrived at the airport to realize I had not idea how I was going to get to West Chester. I was in Kentucky. I was at least one state and an hour drive away from my destination. Getting home was going to take some serious effort on my part with no money.
I took a free hotel shuttle to downtown Cincinnati. Then, tweaking out of my mind, I walked from downtown beyond Eden Park so two to four miles through all the worst areas downtown. Downtown Cincinnati has a burnt out bomb shelter feel with all the old brick building that get heated in the summertime. All the residents flock outside. You have you state liquor store next to the plasma center so the low bottom drunks can get their bottle of wild Irish Rose. There is a methadone clinic and pharmacy of ill repute known to sell you codeine cough syrup with out a prescription. Cincinnati had no needle exchange when i lived there. Someone knew someone who was a diabetic. you would get one needle and use it over and over until it started to pull your skin back. You would sharpen it on a matchbook and prey that it didn't break off in someone else's arm before you got your hit. It had a mix of punk rockers and hobos, gays and conservative Christians. It was the intersection of the South, the North, and the gateway to the dysfunction junction known to me as my parents house. There are all sorts of dead end alleys and housing project with gated exits. A person could get lost in there and never come out. San Francisco was my mousetrap but many a soul was lost on Race Street.
I caught a bus to Kenwood mall and hitch hiked to my parents. The house was dark. It is so dark there. few street lights. The only night creatures are animals, not people. I was so uncomfortable I walked a mile to the gas station to get a Dr. Pepper. When I finally slept, I felt old. I got so sick when I was there detoxing. I had thrush and the doctors were afraid to touch me in the local medical clinic. There were so sure I had AIDS. I told my mother "I am a bi-sexual junkie prostitute out in SF and if you can't accept me, I am going to hop the first freight train home." My mom told me "I think you need some rest." and slowly closed the door.
Dear readers, I am going off in search of some rest but I will return next week.
I've always been curious..why did you go back to SF? I know "chester" would call you, but what was going on in your head about that choice?
ReplyDeleteAlso, how did you afford to get back there?
I have also walked many a mile for a Dr. Pepper. So happy your mom accepted you as you are, my mom is the same. She's my best friend through everything.
SF really became my Home. I didn't feel comfortable in the suburbs any more
Delete