Love & Drugs

Week three of rehab

{Dark Ginger}

Molly

Waking up in a sweaty cold sweat when I had a rough night of bad sleep. My skin all sweaty, my hair all messy and wet. I've been up most of the night getting sick In the bathroom, sitting on the floor next to the toilet in case I puked again. Lucy told me it was normal since my body was only adjusting to the absence of drug. She also told me a list of possible symptoms I may experience like nausea, fatigue, anxiety, and other discomforts as the body detoxifies and begins to heal. That shit was so hard, poking almost every hour is exhausting and driving me insane. Was I really gonna even go to get through all of this? I felt tired, lifeless, death inside, like nothing was ever going to get back like before. What was I thinking when I wasted all my chances to stop it and get better? I remember calling Gina last night at the front telephone call sobbing and skipping a couple of breaths. The line rang and rang again, then it got on her voicemail "It's Gina, if I don't answer leave me a message and I'll call you back later" I heard Gina's voice through the phone. I waited until the beep sounded to leave my message "G~ Gina, I~ I can't do it anymore, please, Gina please come pick me up for christ sake!" I was saying, shaking and sobbing. The line cuts dead, and I just throw the phone in the cabin box and fell on the floor in a little ball, grabbing my legs and arms. I saw light at the end of the hallway approaching and the sound of steps of someone getting closer. The light stopped on me once finally getting to me, I looked up and saw Lucy. She leans down and handed me her hand to help me. I grabbed it and she helped me getting up on my feet. Lucy put her left hand on my forehead probably just to check my body temperature. She took me back to my room. Got out of the bedroom then came back with a bottle of water then she leaves the room for good. I drank a bit, put it on the nightable next to the bed. I felt so sick like if my system was threatening me of rejecting everything out in my stomach by my throat. I'm starting to get dizzy. I slowly get up off my bed and head up to the bathroom in our bedroom. I open the light switch on the wall, tie my hair in a bun with an elastic I had around my wrist, sit on my knees and grab each side of the toilet with my hands. I start retching. It stops so I pull the flush and move backwards and sit on the floor, my back touching the wall. A cold shock sends down my spine as the back of my neck brushed the cold sage-green ceramic on the walls. I sigh tiredly. Lucy told me that since I used to write poetry, maybe writing down how I feel while I'm in rehab, would be a good thing. She bought me a pocket notebook with a dark red leather cover. I take out of my sweatpants right pocket the notebook. It had a pen attached in a strap that you could get him off to write. I take the pen out and start writing on a blank page. I felt like all my energy had been sucked out of my body. I don't really sleep lately; I've been waking up with random panic, had some small night terrors and been doing power naps in the nursery during the day when I felt tired. I don't feel really hungry lately either. But the nurse named Amelie has been checking up on me for a week, making sure I'm eating. My meds are also being checked up and given to me in a small white paper cup at the breakfast and at the supper. I write my thoughts down on the paper; I feel exhausted, feels like I overused my fun, my nights are hells, can't even escape this in my own sleep, lost my bearing, am I ever going to get out, will my body eventually be clean.

I feel the urge to vomit rising up my esophagus again. I place the notebook on the ground, grasp the toilet bowl, and allow myself to have everything up before flushing it away. I remain in the bathroom, waiting for the next bout of sickness to overcome me.

______

I was abruptly stirred from my sleep by the shrill high-pitched beeping of my roommate's digital alarm clock, lying on the ground in the bathroom. Lysa was making her bed, and then walked into the bathroom, pinching her nose due to the stench. "Oh gosh, Molly! What happened here?!" She exclaimed in disbelief. I raspily replied

"Got sick". She bent down to inspect me, and I didn't even need to look in the mirror to know that my face was looking sick. After a night of incessant vomiting, one is bound to look exhausted the next morning. She took my hands to help me stand up; My entire body ached, probably due to the fact that I had been sleeping on the hard floor. Lysa insisted on helping me get cleaned up before breakfast. She threw my dirty hoodie and sweater pants in the bin of dirty clothes to wash. Gave me fresh clothes after taking a bath and washing my hair. Lysa even dry my hair for me. Then when Lucy announced breakfast time, we headed to the main room in the building.