Page 87 of Steadfast (True North)
I shook my head.
“Are you on any other medication at all?”
“I’m taking Advil while my arm heals, but only when it starts to throb.”
“All right.” Her brow furrowed. “Please be very accurate when you answer this question, because your health depends on it. Before the hospital gave you opiates during surgery, when was the last time that you used any narcotic?”
“Um…” I paused to get the math just right. “I went to detox when I was released from prison and that was seven months ago.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “And…” She cleared her throat. “What substances did you useafteryour stay in detox?”
“Nothing. Well, caffeine and sugar. I have a Pepsi problem.”
She drummed her fingernails on the clipboard, and I noticed that they were navy blue. “But you still had cravings?”
“Every day. The Suboxone I started taking on Christmas Eve really nipped that in the bud, though.”
“Okay. And before Suboxone, what did you do about those cravings?” She squinted at me.
Was this a trick question? “I didn’t know there was anythingtodo about them. That’s why I’m here.” Actually, I was no longer sure why I was here.
“You’re an interesting patient,” she said. “At the initial consultation when I ask how long ago people have used, I usually hear seven hours, not seven months.”
“Well, it wasn’t a walk in the park.”Am I taking home a trophy or something?This whole experience was giving me the itch, to be honest. I wanted out from under her stare.
“Very impressive, sir. Now let’s go over some details about the drug regimen, because I don’t want to assume that the hospital gave you all the right information.”
She explained the bi-weekly drug tests and the dosing. “After a couple of months we’ll begin to taper your dose down so that someday you won’t need it anymore. In the meantime, it’s a pretty special drug. It dampens cravings in the majority of people who take it. And those who fall off the wagon and try to use often find that they can no longer get high.”
I’d heard all this before, but I nodded politely.
“Did you eat breakfast and lunch today?”
“Sure.”
She grinned at me from across the table. “Can you be more specific?”
“Oh, uh, I had bread and jam for breakfast.” Ruthie Shipley had sent me home from dinner last night with what she called “leftovers” but that looked suspiciously like a big shopping bag full of food. Her homemade bread was divine. “And egg salad for lunch.” I’d put her plastic containers out on my top step to keep them cool. Luckily, no raccoons had found my Shipley stash.
“Good. If you eat regularly—and don’t skip meals—it’s easier for the Suboxone to work properly. So keep it up. There are a lot of people passing through this office who will tell you that the drug is the only thing that helped them pull their lives back together.”
“That’s cool,” I said. But no drug in the world could undo all the shitty things I’d done. “It’s made my cravings all but disappear. I can only feel them now when I’m stressed out.”
“Tell me about that. What’s stressing you out these past couple of weeks?”
“Well, everything. My broken arm means I can’t do my job. My father might sell our shop. And…” How truthful did I want to be? “I broke up with my girlfriend.”
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly.
“It’s for the best.”
She seemed to consider that idea. “Well, when you’re trying to stay clean, it’s important to keep away from the toxic relationships in your life. Does your girlfriend use drugs?”
I laughed out loud. “God, no.”
“Oh,” she said softly. “Then does she blame you for using? Guilt isn’t helpful, either, if you’re trying to forgive yourself and move on.”
“Uh, no.” Sophie was perfect. It was me who was the problem. “We’re just not very compatible.”
