The Long Road to Recovery & Methadone Recovery & Rehab Centers (Give me a Break)

 I've been writing a post for this blog, in my head, for many weeks. I apologize, in advance, for the length of this one.  I have a lot stored up, that I want to share. Unfortunately, my life has become a very busy routine.  I have a 5:00am wakeup and a 6:15am commute to work.  By the time I get home, cook dinner and try to unwind-- well, I'm lucky enough to read emails.  The good news is that I got my job back.  I've been very MIA, here, so to refresh anyone's memory (or introduce my job life to a new reader), I work at a high school.   I was transferred to another school, in the interim.  I liked working at the adult school, but my heart is with high school kids.  There is something about the daily drama, in the life of high school kids, that makes my job challenging, interesting and entertaining.  (I work as an Administrative Assistant to high school counselors.)

In many ways, my son's drug addiction has given me a heightened sense of awareness towards the kids I see at work on a daily basis.  I deal with parents whose kids are failing classes, or are facing disciplinary action for cutting classes.  My heart goes out to the parents, because I've been there. I know that feeling of helplessness-- of thinking my kid is just being a difficult teenager.  Little did I know that my son was using hard core drugs.  But, I digress.  My son....

On November 1st (also, his 23rd birthday), my son stopped going to the methadone clinic.  Amen.  Before I write any further, I've received a few private emails from methadone users who are not happy with me.  Somehow, they feel I am condemning methadone therapy.  For the record, I am not.  Methadone is something that should be used on a case-by-case basis.  I do believe that, for many addicts, that methadone is the only course of action they can take.  On occasion, I've driven my son to the methadone clinic and have sat, parked, outside.  There are no words to express the sorrow I felt, as I surreptitiously watched methadone patients walking in and out of that clinic door.  What stood out to me, is how old and haggard many of the patients looked like.   Some of the women looked, to me, to be in their 50's.  I was off by as much as 15 years.  Their skin and expressions looked like their body had been ravaged by addiction.  Rather than being repelled by it, I was deeply sad to see it.  Then, I'd see a young woman walk out, who looked like she could work as a bank teller.  Drug addiction has no economic, racial nor gender bias.

On the other hand, as with my son, I feel as though methadone simply kept my son from buying heroin off the street.  Methadone simply bought time, to keep my son from going through withdrawals.  Methadone made it possible for my son to look "normal" again.  It returned that sparkle in his eyes, and he could eat again. Most importantly, it helped him to function at his job-- which he loves, and has kept for 1 1/2 years.  When my son was using, he got fired from three jobs.  So, yes, methadone had it's benefits. However, my son could not accurately claim that he is sober.

However, the downsides of methadone are serious. Methadone, in my opinion, is poison to the body.  It builds up, in the bones.  For one, there are only two methadone clinics within a 40 mile radius of where we live.  Our home is 3 miles from the closest one.  My son could not move anywhere closer to his job (25 miles away), lest he have a 30 minute commute for his daily methadone dose.  Should he oversleep, which he did many times, he'd miss his dose. Then, he'd panic and he'd start to feel very sick by the end of the day.  He had liquid handcuffs to his methadone clinic. What kind of life is that?   The cost of methadone is expensive. Unless you qualify for Medi-Cal (state funded for low-income families) insurance, it's $450.00 a month.  Private insurance doesn't pay for methadone. That's a lot of money-- my son could rent a room in a nice home for that.

B's father has been funding his methadone for the last year , because my husband and I could not and would no longer underwrite that expense-- which we did for the first year.  B's father has experienced a financial crisis, and the funding came to an end.  My son knew that would happen, in early October.  B had a panicked look on his face, but he also said that he wanted to be set free of methadone. Halleluia.

It is now Day #11 that my son has not taken methadone.  I'm proud of my son, for taking my advice, and telling his boss the truth.   I knew that his boss would be receptive, because I know her own son-- who has his own history of addiction.  Sure enough, his boss told him to take a week off work to detox.  But, wait!  Why isn't my son in rehab?

TO THOSE OF YOU REHAB CENTERS WHO HAVE LEFT COMMENTS AS A SELF PROMOTION ON MY BLOG:

I had to laugh, when Madyson left a comment "go suck an egg".  Dear Rehab Centers.  You do offer a valuable service.  However, do you think that most of us can afford you?  Seriously?  My son's first rehab experience cost $72,000 for 45 days.  Yes, we had insurance, but it was a big battle to get the insurance to okay more than 10 days of rehab.  We could not afford the Sober Living Environment for more than two months afterwards. Insurance doesn't pay for that.  So, if you want to self-promote on my blog, please don't. I'll throw eggs at you, myself.  We cannot afford rehab. Period. However, if you want to offer a complimentary rehab and would like for me to blog about it, please contact me.

My son is doing his own detox, at home, under the supervision of a doctor who specializes in addiction.   In a perfect world, I wish he could have gone into rehab.  However, my son did not want to lose his job and so he opted for taking medication from the doctor. I forget the name of the drug, but it's an opiate of some sort.  The doctor says it will help my son get through the methadone withdrawals.  Once the methadone is out of his body, he will be put on subutex.

B has been going through withdrawals, for certain.  He gets the chills, and has been vomiting.  He buys medical marijuana (legal in California).  Yes, weed is a gateway drug.  However, I think he's walked through that gate long ago.  I have mixed feelings about it, but my son is now 23 years old.  He buys "cookies" and he eats them to help him get through withdrawals.  He tells me that each "cookie" is stretched out over 2-3 days. He doesn't want to smoke weed, because he doesn't like the high.  He says that marijuana helps with the nausea and helps him to sleep.  He's been sleeping a lot, at home, and when he's not sleeping then he is playing online video games.  I'd rather he do that, than go out to buy heroin.

By the way, B's heroin dealer finally got arrested and is in jail. Amen. Sadly, her young children are now in foster care and her husband will be deported to Mexico, once he serves his sentence. 

Last night, I asked my son why he thinks he's going to "make it" this time.  He answer was, that he was more than ready to get off methadone.  He says that being set free from having to get a daily dose is a huge load lifted off his shoulders. Most importantly, he says that his new friends don't use.  All those dark friends of his are out of his life. Yes!  It's true.

For the last year, my son has been a model roommate.  He is courteous and respectful.  He goes to work early, and never misses a day. He takes on double shifts, when he can.  He pays us rent, keeps his car insurance as paid and he is a joy to be around.

I'm keeping it real.  Getting off methadone is a huge step, but it's not the end of the road to recovery.  Once he's off the methadone, he will need to find ways to resist the cravings that are going to come.  I've read plenty of articles, on the web, that says kicking methadone is harder than kicking heroin. My son knows that, too.

But, for today, my thoughts are with my son. He is at the doctor, right now, finding out what the next step is.  I am paying his medical bills for this doctor.  It is my way of supporting him. Thanks to President Obama, my son has insurance again, but his deductible is quite high.

Above all, through all I've gone through with my son, our relationship has been healed and restored.  I know that my son both loves me and appreciates how I have never given up on him.  His relationship with his stepfather is good. He has grown to like "C", and for that I am thankful.  My husband has been a pillar of support to me.  Our marriage has survived this, and I am so thankful for that.  "C"  expresses, to me, what he's thinking and I have learned to listen without being defensive towards my son.

For me, I have learned how co dependence and addiction go hand-in-hand.  I'm much better at learning when to say "no".  My son has stopped trying to manipulate me.  He accepts "no".  He asks how he can earn financial help with things like gas money for work.  He has apologized for what he's put us through, and I have forgiven him.

I think my son has a good chance of moving forward in his life and towards true sobriety.  He knows he could slip.  I do believe that my son wants sobriety, more than anything else.

I am a God-loving, prayerful mom.  I give thanks to my Lord and Savior, each and every day for His grace and mercy on my son.  Miracles happen on a regular basis, that have helped my son to be where he is today.

I know I am luckier than some other family stories.  There are sad stories out there. I read them, when I visit other blogs.  I pray for them.

Never lose hope. Never.  The power of faith and love is getting me through this.

Mental vacation and training wheels

I have to confess, that reading blogs from other parents of addicts hit my heart and soul to the core. I know that this sounds a little melodramatic, but it really did!

What stuck out, to me, was how battered and angry so many of the blogs read. Reading between the lines, I felt as though so many parents were stolen from, lied to and manipulated by the addict in their family-- to the point that their hearts were turning cold (and I don't mean that as an insult... it's having zero trust that does this to us...it's a coping mechanism, if you will. As I continued to read deeper, I felt so much sorrow for addicts who have mental illness associated with their drug addiction. I could not even offer any kind of "way out" to these bloggers! I felt totally helpless and unable to offer any kind of solid wisdom.

In a way, their troubles make mine feel so superficial. Yes, my son is a drug addict. I don't take that lightly. Compounding the problem, my son is a Type I Diabetic who must use insulin-- every single day-- so that he can live. Mental illness has been ruled out, by two psychiatrists.

I still count my blessings that my son has not resorted to theft. I won't polish his halo too much, though. He has sold oxy to buy heroin. That's bad enough. I still count my blessings that the Lord has been merciful on my son. So far, my son has never been inside a jail-- small mercies.

I think that's been the cherry on my sundae with "mental anguish overload"-- so many addicts are in jail, and their parents are blogging about their sorrows. That frustrates me to no end!

I cannot imagine what I would do, and I don't want to think about it. At last, not now.

So, for today, I can say that my son is clean. He is starting his first full day of classes at our local junior college. His hopes are high. I told him to take easy classes, as his training wheels. He agrees, that he should take classes that won't put too much demand on him. He needs to get used to actually getting up and GOING to school. He has quit college twice, before. Let's hope that three's a charm.

He still procrastinates. He still forgets to lock his bedroom window before leaving the house. He still piles up his laundry and then decides to do 4 loads of laundry on my day off. He still sleeps in late, on the weekends. He still doesn't test his blood sugar as often as he should.

He has procrastinated, all of last week, in contacting his outpatient program...now that his insurance hurdle has finally been crossed.

I have to learn patience-- and this is not my strongest virtue. I keep reminding myself that my son's mind is still in a fog. He is still detoxing, but each day he looks much better.

I need to focus on one accomplishment at a time. Almost like having a toddler, I have to cheer him on when he completes something. "Great job!"

I was cranky last night. Really cranky. My job can, at times, demand lots of little deadlines from more than one person. I feel like "Cinderelly" on those days. I just want to go home and chill-- to watch a TV program or surf the net for food recipes (my hobby and passion). Last night, B was so excited about being enrolled and he was a Chatty Kathy (I'm dating myself, here).

I begged for quiet-- and that was just about the time my husband walked into the room chomping on chips. Crunch, crunch, crunch. Then B decides he's going to bang around in the kitchen.

"QUIET!!" I shrieked. My head was pounding with a headache. I had reached my meltdown point, and I can get ugly when that happens.

I could see the hurt look on my son's face. He left the room and I felt like the big bad Ogre. This morning, I apologized to him for acting that way. I really meant it.

I really need to take a mental break-- to do something for ME. I wish I could afford a massage (I did them for years as a profession), but that's not in the budget.

I have four -- maybe five-- days off work. I'm praying for a day devoted to "me time" and another day for "we" time. "We" is my husband and me-- being a married couple.

My son's addiction can take over our lives, if we aren't careful.

Please know, that while I haven't read every single recent blog entry to those I am following-- you are in my prayers.

The addiction is bigger than us and an update

My husband reads my blog. It's a weird feeling, in a way. Yet, I am posting my personal story for anyone to read-- people I do not know, are reading my story. When I write, I am allowing my feelings--in the moment-- to manifest through my speedy typing on a keyboard. Sometimes, my thoughts might appear as a very lengthy read. To others, I am honored to receive private emails and comments-- from people who tell me how touched they are or how they are experiencing what I am going through. I read every single comment and email, and I appreciate them.

I'm not a professional writer, by any means. I'm not a drug counselor, a psychiatrist, nor a licensed therapist. I am, simply, a mother who has a son who is addicted to opiates. I am also a mother, who is divorced from my son's father (for about 12 years now) and who remarried three years ago. Corny as it sounds, I am serious when I say I married a good person. I'm not writing this, because I assume that "C" is reading this. I also know that his sister is reading this. I married someone who remained a bachelor into what many people would consider to the "The Stone Age". He has no ex wives in his life and he has no children. Me? I have ex-husbands and one son. Still, he accepted me having received full disclosure from me of my past. I have been completely honest with "C" because he is the kind of person that I feel safe with.

Something that C and I have in common is that both of us were in relationships with addicts. I had a very brief "drive by" marriage between my divorce from B's father and my marriage to C. I don't like to talk about that chapter in my life, very much, because I feel so stupid. I did not know that this person was an addict and an alcoholic. C's relationship with this woman lasted for many years. Neither one of us knew our "significant others" were using...he thought she was sober... I was never disclosed by "him" that he had a drug and alcohol problem. I never knew his dirty little secret, until after I married him and he bled me financially dry and stole from me.

That's more than I meant to share, but so be it...

Ultimately, both of us bailed out of our prior relationships. Neither once of us wanted the addictive behavior to be in our lives, anymore. I could only endure the alcohol and drug use for a year-- he stuck through it all much longer than that. Consequently, he knows more about addiction that I do. Both of us had vowed to ourselves that we would never get involved with an addict again.

So, once again, addiction has come back into our lives...his life. I feel so bad about it. It's not my fault, but I still feel a lot of guilt.

At the time that "C" and I were engaged, he wasn't living with me. B was living with me, full time. I was unaware that B was using drugs the entire time that C and I dated, and became engaged and then married, over the course of 2 years. "C" and I went to see a counselor to ask for advice on how to blend as a family. Our counselor told us that the best role that my husband should strive for was to become an adult role model to B... a "mentor". We were told that this would be a very slow process. B had me all to himself for several years, so we knew that there would be some resentment. The process has, indeed, been slow. Today, I think that my son has begun to notice what a good person it is that I am married to. I think that B is seeing C as a good adult role model. Still, C has been fooled by my son's lies. Understandably, C is not a happy camper.

What I adore about my husband is that he is so dependable. He's the kind of person that you can count on to follow through on his promises. He pays his bills on time. He's a hard working person and treats me in such a kind and generous way. That I think he's the most handsome man I've every met is mine to own. He has finally shown me what a healthy relationship is supposed to be.

My greatest fear is that my son's addiction could tear at our marriage. Right now, I don't feel as though we are in trouble. But, I also know that our marriage is as vulnerable as anyone else's. I have a tendency to become controlling, when I am feeling pressure. I hate it, and I fight it. What most people don't understand is that my wounded child, within (from physical and bad relationships with men) can come out in me. I catch myself lacking patience, or being short with my words. If I'm not careful, I can easily slip into my micro-managing persona and asking "did you do this" or, I need this...NOW. My voice takes on a tone of authority, and less of compassion. I don't even know that I'm doing it, until my son or husband points it out. Then, I feel bad. I don't deny it, and I try to be aware of it.

What people don't understand is that this has become my coping mechanism. I feel more secure with structure and systems in my life. I'm not a free-spirit, if that's a more understandable term.

I'm writing about myself, and this blog should be about my son. But, today, it is important for me to try and sort out what role, if any, I can play in helping my son-- while trying to protect my precious marriage.

I have not had a chance to talk to C. That he tells me he is reading my blog brings me mixed emotions. I feel a little exposed and vulnerable, to him. I know that he's a very private person, and he must worry that someone he knows will read this blog. As for me, I'm a very open person. I will not live my life in shame or secrecy about my son's addiction. I don't like TALKING about it to people-- in fact, I do not want to repeat his story over and over again.

"Read my blog! Try to understand!", are some of the thoughts that go through my head, when people call with the purpose of talking to me. I don't want to talk. I know that sounds rude, but I would rather that people read my blog.

I appreciate when people write to me about their own story, or offer me advice. Sometimes, the advice I receive comes from a person who is not a parent or an addict. I know that they mean well, so I do not allow myself to take offense.

OK, I'm beginning to see that today's posting is getting very lengthy. I apologize to those of you who prefer to read in shorthand. But, today, I need to share my feelings.

Let me fill in what happened since yesterday:

I called my brother, A. He was home, taking a day off. I asked if B could spend time with him. I'm not sure why I called him, but I had hoped that my son would be able to unload to his Uncle, whom he adores. So, I drove B to his uncle's house, just a few minutes away from where I work. At that time, I didn't fully realize that B was in the stages of early withdrawal. I will post more on that another day. To those of you who do not know-- withdrawal from opiates is horrible. I have been told, by addicts who have gone through this, that it is pure agony. It is painful, sweating, vomiting, spasms...it is hell.

I'm getting sidetracked again-- I just spend 1/2 hour talking to a student who is failing all of her classes. I strongly suspect that she is "using". I made her cry, because I drew all of my mother instincts and I connected with her. She is crying out for help, and her mother is clueless that she has straight F's and she is cutting classes. Hello? This girl told me that she thought nobody cared. I tried to give her a pep talk. I want to call her mom (and I know her) to tell her "Wake up! You've put your daughter in five different schools in three years! Changing schools is not doing to change your daughter! Pay attention to her!"

Changing rehab centers isn't going to fix addicts, either, I thought to myself.

Sorry. Back to B's update:

I picked B up from his uncle's house, when I got off work. The three of us had dinner. B said he was hungry, but he was unable to finish his meal. I had to take my night class, so I picked B up from his uncle's around 8:00pm. On the way home, we talked. I listened more, and I let him talk (a newly acquired and vital skill for parents).

He said a lot of things. Are they truth or hopeful promises? Am I being manipulated? I think that they are hopeful truths.

B has an intake appointment on Thursday afternoon. It is for a one year outpatient program, where he is randomly tested and has to attend regular meetings. He believes that this is the program for him. We shall see if his insurance will cover it. He knows that I cannot and will not pay out of my own pocket. I simply cannot afford it.

He asked if he could stay at our house to detox. He has suboxone, to help. He also needs to get better from his strep throat. I have agreed to allow him that. What else could he do? Detox on the couch of house that is inhabited by addicts? I think not.

C was asleep when I got home. I checked my email and then fell into a deep sleep.

This morning, I could see that C looks very stressed. It scares me when I see him this way.

"The addiction is bigger than us", is what he said to me-- with an exasperated tone.

Yes, it is. No matter what the books say... no matter what logic says... there are no fool proof solutions that are universal.

Someone wrote an email to me, yesterday, that echoed exactly what I said to my husband. I said that that "B is a 20 year old inside of a 15 year old mind". Tough Love is not the absolute answer.

C and I need to find balance in how to deal with this horrible situation. We need to find how to give my son a lot of love and hope. We need to learn how to detect the BS Meter. Right now, we cannot focus on his academics or job. We need to find HOW to help my son to help himself.

B is the only person who can be ready to WANT...to desperately DESIRE sobriety. He has to show to himself and to God and to us-- that he means what he says.

It will not happen overnight.

The vigil of sobriety begins...

Insurance Woes

Health Care is an issue that all of us are frustrated with. That's where we (hubby and me) are at with my son's insurance.

I don't wish on ANY parent, that they need to put their child into a detox/recovery center. It's astronomically expensive! The cost of "detox" that I was quoted was between $15-20K for a 30-day program.

Thankfully, my husband has a good insurance policy through his job. B stopped going to college, so the cost of his insurance soared from $130.00 a month, to $374.00 a month. We (husband, ex-husband and I) agreed that we needed to keep him on his insurance. He is a Type-1 diabetic, and we didn't want to leave him uninsured.

It's a good thing that we did, because Blue Shield has agreed to pay for his detox-- but therein lies the problem.

• Blue Shield considers "detox" to be finished as soon as B is off his meds. He was given meds for five days. Therefore, Blue Shield crossed their arms and said "no" to paying for another day.
• Thankfully, the medical center has good people. "Chuck" found a clause in that B could get more time (covered by Blue Shield) if there is a risk to either the pancreas or the liver. Bingo! B is a diabetic. He has until this Tuesday, April 15th that has been approved.
• "Chuck" will try to get 7 more days approved from Blue Shield. However, he says it's 50/50 that he can get this done.
• It's frustrating that Blue Shield thinks 5 days is enough detox to come off opiate addition. It isn't. B has been off meds for six days, and he is struggling with side effects-- vomiting, insomnia, diarrhea and nervousness. I have been told that it takes an average of 3 months for his brain to begin to settle down from oxy-contin.
  

The share of expense for B's stay at this medical center will cost about $130.00 a day. How that will be paid is being prayed about. I can't worry about it, because B needed medical intervention -- and not a moment too soon.

Stay tuned-- I won't have an answer until this Tuesday, at the latest.

"Mom"

How did I get to be here?

How did I get to be here? How did my life get to this point, mom?

Those were the words spoken to me by my son, the day he was accepted into a medical clinic on April Fool's Day, 2008.

How did my son get to be at this point in his life? That's the million dollar question.

Just yesterday, I was visiting "B" on day #11 since he said "yes" to going in for his first detox. I remember thinking to myself "He's so tall!" I was looking at his hands, with his long fingers. For a moment, I was brought back to a time where he was my precious young boy-- no older than 3 years of age. He was so innocent, full of life and love for his mom. He loved to give and receive butterfly kisses. I was so filled with a hope that he would grow up to have a happy childhood. I can remember how much I wanted my son to be raised without the violence and dysfunction that I had known.

So, how did he get to be where he is today? On April Fool's Day, he was obviously sick-- his body filled with poison. His body is shaking, he feels ill and his beautiful eyes are half closed. I would not know, until the next day, just how loaded he really was. I did not find out, until yesterday, how little he remembers of his two hour drive to a place I had placed my hope in that it would get him well.

It has been eleven days, and I am filled with both hope and fear. In eleven days, I have just scratched the surface to understanding addiction. I am accepting the fact that B has a long a hard journey ahead.

I have attended 3 Al-Anon meetings, so far. It's hard for me to move past the Al-Anon books and pamphlets. Why? Because B's is not an alcoholic. That's a small mercy, but he is still an addict.

So, I have learned to become used to saying "Hi, I'm Debby...and my son is an addict".
I have accepted the fact that there is healing in acknowledging that my son is ill. He is addicted to opiates and he wants to be well.

I am feeling frustrated, fearful and very certain that addicts cannot find recovery unless they are working the program-- I absolutely believe that addicts need to be working the 12-Step program. They need to be in meetings every single day, until they have found a sponsor.

The question is-- will he do this? I know that I will do this. I will work the 12-Steps to help myself and to learn what I can and cannot do to help B. And that is why I have started this blog, TODAY. It is both painful and exhausting to try to explain what's going on. It is my hope that I can direct my friends and loved ones to read and follow along as I share details on my long and difficult journey that I did not buy a ticket to board-- a journey in wanting to support my son's fight to be clean and to stay clean from using drugs.

My son bought this ticket, the first time he was given oxycontin to take. Until two years ago, I had never even heard of this drug. It's evil. It's powerful. It is everywhere-- and it is stealing the souls of our young children.

For two years, I could not tell that my son was using drugs to the depth that he was in. Yesterday, my son confessed all-- it was a lot for me to digest. I hope that my blog will help me process what the two of us spoke about. So, now I know, that addicts will tell their loved ones exactly what they want to hear.

My heart and mind is open, now. I need to try and understand this dark world the my son has entered. I don't want to explore this darkness, but I pray that the light of Jesus will expose this miserable and evil world of drugs. I can't ignore nor deny that I need to support my son, but I might have to say "no" to him. It won't be easy, I know.

My Higher Power of the 12-Steps is the God of the Bible. My Abba Father, My Creator.

How did my son get here, Father? He could, very well, be shot in the head, badly beaten, missing, in an ICU ward or in prison. Thank you, Heavenly Father, for your mercy on him.

You have a plan for him.

In Jesus' Name,

Mom