Go right on ahead and bam that shit in your Riffs.
You can do it while you wash dishes, or clean up after a grown ass dude, or whatever. Trust me.
So, I’ve been spending the last several days helping a friend detox. Oxycodone detox. Fucking. Brutal.
Let me tell y’all. It’s making me fucking hostile.
However, the moral of the story is we’re 6 days in, and still clean on their part. Damned difficult to do. This I am certain of.
Yet, much as with any time that a man has a cold, a stubbed toe, a goddam hangnail, it’s fucking intolerable.
And this is coming from someone who did this. Still, due to the fact that I’m a grown ass fucking woman with bills to pay, I did it from behind a bar, slinging drinks to drunk ass hos who had the nerve to tell me I looked like death.
I did it, though. Just like everything else in my life, I got it in my sights, and fired when ready. Because that’s how fucking adults handle shit.
This shit here, though. Fuck.
If I make it out of this without losing my cool, I’ll be damned proud of the human I’ve become.
I want to empathize. I do. Wait, that’s a lie. I really don’t. That’s not what I’m here for. I’m here to ensure that there aren’t any pills working their way into this guy’s sinus cavity.
We’re all aware I’m not the touchy-feely part of the process. I’m the ‘fuck up and get punched in the mouth’ part of the process.
I should get a fucking nametag with that shit on it.
I usually don’t let myself get sucked back into the world of opiates, because the damage they did to my life was astronomical. You’re all aware. I’ve been honest about it, because it’s my policy now.
He wanted to kick them, though, and I know what that is all about. Well, as luck would have it, I just so happened to not be serving as a personal goddam maid to anyone at the time, so of course, I signed right the fuck up.
*checks the sign-up sheet like anyone else is fucking relieving me*
There are a lot of people who say they care, that they’ll have your back, that all you have to do is call. However, when the chips are down, and you check out the cheap seats, well.
They aren’t fucking full.
So, when I say those things, you can go right the fuck on down to notary town with that. If I say I’m coming through, unlock the door, I’m on my way. I told this dude “when he was ready.”
But if he doesn’t quit whining like a fucking toddler, y’all. I might have to do that Bitchface thing I do. Because fuck, dude, it’s not that fucking difficult to wash a fucking dinner plate.
Woosah. Woosah.
I’m glad it isn’t me. I’m glad I never have to spend another day of my life feeling like I’m dying because I can’t get a pill in my face. I’m glad I don’t have to vomit for hours, and dry heave for days, and everything else that goes along with it.
I’ll say it again, oxycodone is not a joke. That shit had no business being prescribed outside of a cancer center, at all. Ever. And the people who did so should be inside of a prison cell, but we live here, so instead they’re on their yacht as I babysit someone trying for the literal 13th time to kick this poison.
Anyway, that’s news from my world. And, like everything else, it’s going to work out okay, because I’m not leaving room for other options. I have this thing about watching anyone else overdose and die from this shit.
That’s all I have today. Well, aside from laundry, dishes, grocery shopping, and all this other fucking domestic servitude.
Hit a Bitchface up. I’ll answer between fucking chores.
Love,
Q
Definitely sounds like an underlying issue. I’m a licensed hospice team member and it sounds like something else.
I love you too, sis
I also get to the Land of Shut Up before I star on NBC nightly news. I’m always there ( just like you) but I too have my moments. Generally with my husband and my father. I’m great with the elderly, dogs and children, go figure.
If he’s six days in, the pain and vomiting should have stopped. Now, he’s stuck with the craving.
I think it’s wonderful that’s he’s giving it another try! Remember, you’re the Queen of all you survey, you’ve got this, I’m always proud of you. 💜