I read all this shit out there by people who say they still get high while on methadone. Are you guys skipping days and then getting high, or are you on wicked low doses? Cuz even though I've gone way down and have managed to stay at 30mg for a few months, I still don't feel shit when I use H. I haven't used in a while, not since I tried to kick the m-done, but man I wanted to get high yesterday. And honestly, if I thought I could have, I would have.
We had to euthanize one of our cats, Chuck Norris, and that's just so fucked up. He was such a good cat and he was only a year old. He was totally healthy it seemed and we took him to get fixed and get his shots last Saturday and he seemed really messed up from the anesthesia but eventually he began to walk around and eat, so we thought he was recovering fine. But I woke up the morning before yesterday and he was all small and frail looking, hunched under a shelf in the bathroom, drooling. It was obvious something wasn't right and we called our vet, the same one who had fixed him. She didn't seem to think it sounded serious and said she could see us at one. So we drove to the clinic to dose and I started to panic about him so we called a few vet hospitals in Keene and made an appointment for as soon as we could get him there. But we should have brought him directly to the vet. Not that it would have saved him, but maybe he would have been in less pain.
Even the vet cannot say for sure what happened. He probably had a pre-existing condition that was exasperated by the surgery and the move. He may have gotten a blood clot from the IV anesthesia and that may have travelled to his heart causing a lack of oxygen. Either way, he had heart and respiratory failure and because of the lack of oxygen, even though he was in an oxygen tank, some cell damage took place. His right arm where he got his shot was dead and limp. It was so horrible watching him suffer. Everything I read about cats and these types of symptoms on the Internet said that the survival rate was very low and upon survival of the initial episode, life expectancy is short. Had we brought him home to nurse him, he would have been in agony. Maybe if I had enough drugs to keep him medicated and happy, I'd try to hang on to him longer, but I don't.
What else is there really to say? Life is sad and mean and fucked up. It seems like there is no rhyme or reason to so many things in life. Why do bad things happen to good people? I can come up with as many theories as the next person, but nobody really knows. All I could tell him was that we loved him and if I had to die I would go the way he went. They basically OD'd him with barbiturates, which for him was likely as peaceful as a heavy, heavy heroin high for me.
It was late in the day before we finally made it home and I really want to bury him well and plant flowers where he's buried, so we decided to bury him tomorrow (or today, I guess). But I wasn't sure how the other animals would react to knowing he was there, so I left him in his little box in the trunk. I know that sounds horrible, he's not just laying there. He's in like a cat body bag (creepy) and then a box with my sweatshirt but I can't walk past the car without cringing.
Cat Dying = Sucks, Sucks, Sucks!!!!
This never-ending night is finally coming to a close and I can put my crap in my car and get ready to go. I just want to sleep through it all until it isn't sad and fucked any more. If I can't medicate myself heavily with my #1 drug of choice, I'll settle for puffing tough and sleeping the day away.