Last night was bad. Jason "stormed" all night. He shrugged out his "PICC" line and his fentanyl patch and now they are brainstorming new ways to treat him. The doctor approached me about Methadone.
Methadone. The drug my 80's childhood knows well because it is the go to for all the crackheads I knew who seemed to defy gravity and never fall over. The drug that clinics pop up for that no one wants in their neighborhood.
I can't let them give Jason methadone. Call me dumb, call me uninformed, call me naive and closed minded. I will be all those things. But the marketing campaign for methadone is emblazoned in my brain and the crackhead poster children I once knew smile at me with big toothless grins and Polk marked cheeks and wink on big blue banners in my head.
I have conceded a lot. But not on this. Not my baby. Marketing has gotten to me. We have to find another way. I have put up with a lot here. Jason is restrained in bed. He wore a muzzle for almost 2 weeks, and I still have not gone to jail for jumping across the bed to kill the person with the needle when they sedate him to sleep.
They will not give my son the itchy-achy-can-i-get-a-dollar crackhead medicine -not happening.
Praying for you and Jason. I remember your fun loving spirit in high school and your beautiful smile. You are a mother beyond words, your love pours out in every word you type.
ReplyDeleteYour in my thoughts and prayers daily. I know God will restore him to you