Now, with paper in hand, I could justify getting a shot of Demerol whenever I "needed" it, but it soon became clear that certain restraints needed to be put into place. By the end of 2008, my doctors and I decided to limit the number of shots each month to eight, though I still ran through them in the first couple of weeks of the month, leaving me with no shots available for the last two weeks. After a few months of this restriction, I began to notice a trend in myself: If I've used all the shots for the month and had none available, I experienced virtually no withdrawal until the next month drew nigh; then the craving became unbearable. I filed this knowledge away, but never forgot it.
After a six-month tryst with meth in early-2009, I continued getting eight shots a month, all within the first two or three weeks of the month. My ex made plans to come see me several times that summer and fall, and by winter we'd connected enough that he decided to move to Gunnison to be near me. Understand that he and I had met 16 years earlier and would have been together most of that time had my 'spiritual path' at the time not dictated that we could no longer be together. I've never been able to live two separate lives, one "moral and upright" and the other "decadence-incarnate."
He moved to Gunnison in December, 2009; at the time I was receiving eight shots a month of Demerol, at 150 mg per dose...about every other day. In June of 2010, I moved to another home closer to town, and the stress of doing so sent my bipolar condition in a massive tailspin, much of which I took out on him. Shortly thereafter, it became obvious that he'd had enough of seeing me virtually-catatonic most of the time, so I chose to act in both our behalves.
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