Archive for July, 2011


If you out there have a mentally ill addicted adult child do not let him move back into your home. Do as I say and not as you read here in this blog. I have heard it a thousand times yet didn’t heed the advice. Your heart may painfuly rip into two but you have to let the addict hit rock bottom. Mine is still here. Today it stops or he leaves and never comes back.



Stalemate. Emt and Police will not and cannot force an individual to a hospital even though they are clearly in a life death crisis. Welcome to today watching son die in a room full.


As parents we want nothing more on earth than our children to grow and have fulfilling lives. As older parents of adult children we should die before our children but obviously it’s not always so. I’m not superwoman, I am not a perfect  mother. My children were brought up by only myself in our own home in a small rural town where everyone knew each other. There was no big drug problems back then nor was there much crime rate nay for normal teenage pranks and growing pains.

Fast forward to recent. I am well aware bringing home a drug addict and choices I have made have not always been right ones. I am an enabler clearly, both son and I know this. Sitting in front of us now is darkness and scary. Son is becoming too ill and knows it’s near time for our ill acted wait and see to end. We will go to the hospital sooner than later, likely by sunrise and he and I will be terrified together. Nobody lives forever, the cat and mouse game of needle in skin you will always lose.

Maybe if there is a God son will be spared one more time.

"Let me die."

Son is in a vicious cycle of nausea and vomiting daily all day as Hepatitis engulfs his body. Denial get’s you dead. In order to forgo his stomach and treat the pain and nausea he must see a doctor but refuses. Arguing, all is pointless with anyone who refuses treatment. Our outdated Constitution gives him the right to do nothing while family can only watch. When an individual becomes unconscious only then can paramedics proceed. Last night was that reality but son never passed out so no assistance was rendered when they arrived. It was a nightmare on camera in our small town once word got out.



This storm has passed for now and tempers are winding down. Because of son’s illness he rarely goes outside the home. The next appointment I have with the clinic I will not bring home anything son is wanting to use. It’s a fact the last few days he has been sober, though not happily so. Unhappy and sober is better than nothing. Each day is a battle against not one but many monsters inside my son. Once addiction takes hold as so his last 9 years it’s nearly impossible to just stop, especially when the person has a major mental illness. I’m no doctor, nurse or anything of the sort but it’s all we have at this moment. If my child is to die he will die with family and not on the street.




One week after a visit with a new family doctor for myself she dumped me as a patient after writing me a pain script and a pharmacy phoning her. Because my meds have been stolen so much by son I am now red flagged with the two local pharmacies. Two weeks ago I got my monthly meds filled and my Oxy script went missing though we hid them. Yes I know it’s partly my fault for enabling him. I just didn’t want him suffering or dying in the street like he was.

My once a day morphine was untouched only because it has been on me everywhere I go, in my pockets and even in my bra when I sleep. The pain in my spine from the tumor is bad enough to cause me to consider walking in front of the train. Without pain meds it is a reality. It’s gone crazy with son here and he needs to find somewhere else to live. I feel like a failure but he needs to do his part which he will not. Maybe now that I cannot get subscribed Oxy he will leave. He doesn’t know I am taking morphine thank God. I tell him daily to phone a doctor to get his own meds if he is really in pain but he does nothing but stay in his room now coming out only to relieve himself and give me dirty looks. He is “sick” now and dangerous. I’ve stayed upmost nights afraid to sleep. I have 3 calls waiting to be returned from low income mental health resources for him and myself.

I’m trying, I really am God.

It’s all spun out of control. Son’s addiction has turned the home upside down and our life to hell but I have myself to blame. He stopped seeing his medical doctor because the doctor wants him to see a mental health doctor. The monthly temporary state money he has started using to fund his habit of marijuana to take his nausea away and stop vomiting just to keep down nourishment. I don’t want to give up on him, if I do he has nobody.

I’m fighting my own mortal battle now along with his.


The addict in my home struggles daily with me for control, ironicly neither of us has it to win over. Bringing my grown child back into the home was the only way I knew at that moment to save his life. I had faith that “God” and doctors would help with the rest. I don’t believe in God much these days. The situation at home now has taken a twisted turn of events leaving myself to blame.

How to gage the fact a drug addict is in real pain from a diseased liver and other physical ailments is as easy as counting every star in the sky. When a person goes for treatment in any hospital or doctor office he now has a stigma attached to him because of the “Hepatitis” and not one doctor will treat that person for real pain. The result of trying to get well “the right way” is a recovering addict will go back to the street to treat himself and the merry go round continues it’s sick ride. If nothing I just said makes sense it’s okay, it’s how days here are now as the struggle continues.

I wrote to Intervention, the show, and included a video that wasn’t pretty. My day to fill my pain scrips is upcoming in a couple days for my newly diagnosed cancer and I bet I won’t see one tablet.