wink     ; )

I Hate...

I hate how my clusters make me feel old--how I end up lying in bed with an oxygen mask on while my son holds my hand and looks at me with concern.

I hate how my clusters make me feel like a bad father--how I am forced to ignore my son's crying because I need to inhale ten more minutes of oxygen--how I sometimes wish that he would just leave me alone so that I can deal with my pain in peace.

I hate how my clusters make me feel like a junkie--how desperate I get for my drugs, how I am restless and nervous if I don't have any drugs on me. When a bad cluster hits, I have a ritual: I take my statdose pen and disassemble it and lay all of the pieces out in front of me. I prep an area on my arm. I bring the needle up to my skin. There is a moment of hesitation, anticipation. In that moment, there is nothing more important than that needle, nothing I care about more than getting its contents into my bloodstream. Then the needle slides under my skin. It doesn't hurt at all. I push the drug unto my system and wait. And wait. And wait until that blessed moment when it starts to kick in and all of my troubles melt away.