Holy mother fentanyl is a bitch to kick. I used heroin rarely because I knew exactly where that would go. But holy crap getting off this pharmaxeutical, sans, dr's suggestions, is quite a ride. Couldn't step down, like Cymbalta, where I divided the caps in haves and quarters. No. This shit seeps into yr skin. So no scaling down. It's there, it's not.
Every resource I have is at my disposal or I wouldn't be doing this. This shit isn't fun. I like my skin to just lay there nicely. There were things I couldn't do today and thank godesss my aide showed up. I keep going in and ot of what I call LemmyHead, where I go a little away, then crash back in.
It's all there- the jerks, the sweats, the panics, the Lemmys, the smoke like a fiend and only ingest water and coffee. Maybe chocolate. No sleep- the bedcothes are all over the floor in the morning. I'm not, still, 31 years later, a puker. Though all there'd be s water, coffee, half-digested vitamins and benadryl. Maybe a naprosyn bit.
Thank you forever, John Lennon, for Cold Turkey, Led Zep for Stairway and Kashmir. And ELP for everything, every breath. Times like these you know who your musicians are.
In the midst of it all, the birthday plans are in order, he can't read this tonight so all carries forward.
The Door Is Ajar.
6 days ago