Battling OxyContin addiction

[Zebra]

To Whom it May Concern,
I realize this is a long email, and I hope you will bear with me. I am desperate for help, and feel the only hope I have of receiving it is by giving you a clear and complete explanation of my situation. Thank you for your time and patience.
I am hoping your organization can offer me some ideas or advice. In October of last year my abusive ex left me. I had been working up the nerve to tell my parents what was happening to me, but was terrified to do so. He did an excellent job convincing me I could never survive without him. I think he saw it coming, and decided to act first. He took my money, as well as my car. Before doing that he also convinced me to ask my parents to use some of their much diminished savings to pay for a moving truck to get us out of our gang invested apartment complex in Salt Lake City to move to Las Vegas. This is where we lived before I got sick, the last place I was truly and completely happy. A place not only close to the doctors I needed, but one with an indoor pool and gym I could use for the physical therapy I so desperately needed. He also had them pay the deposit, first month’s rent, and then four months more until he found a job in Vegas. He now lives there with the woman he was cheating on me with, as well as my dog, and of course, my car.
Since then, I have been trying to pick up the pieces of my life. He had planned to take the car outright when he thought he could. His parents convinced him I owed him for taking care of me. In reality, his version of taking care of me was spending my disability checks, stealing my pain medication, and having me beg my parents to pay the bills every time he got fired for staying up too late to play video games. He didn't know until he tried to register it that the car was actually in my name. For the past year we've been trying to get him to pay me some of the $3,600 the car was worth. His parents finally offered to send me $1,000 for the title. I decided it was best to take the money and have him out of my life for good, though it hurt for reasons you will hopefully soon understand.
In 2013 my sister committed suicide. I was the one who found him. A month after that, my best friend killed herself by swallowing all her pain pills. I can't be sure, but I think she did it after finding out about the girl. They had made a pact to kill themselves together a year before, and she told me about it. I did everything I could to prevent it, but there will always be a part of me that will feel it wasn't enough. A year and a half before his death I started having problems with chronic pelvic pain. A surgeon went in to remove Endometriosis. I would find out later she had far too little experience to attempt that surgery. She sent me to her mentor, who performed four operations. He quadrupled the amount of opiate medication I was on, and removed my left ovary. After the last surgery, he said there was nothing more he could do. He made no referrals, and no suggestions on ways to ease the pain. I have no proof, but more than one doctor made it clear she made a mistake, and he cleaned up her mess. I will never be able to prove it, but I have come to accept it. It's just another part of my past I need to let go of if I am to ever have any hope of rebuilding.
I met my friend Sara when I was going to college. Sara had agonizing back pain from being hit by a car. She suggested we go to the same doctor. That is where I made the leap from Percocet to that "wonder drug" OxyContin. Back then they really believed it was a miracle cure. Watching Sara and my friends though, it didn't take long for me to see it was anything but. I could see she was taking more of it than she should. She also started sharing it with my brother and other people. There's a lot of alcohol and drug abuse in my family, and it scared me from the start. I never took more than the prescribed amount in a day, and took less on the days I could. The last thing I wanted was to get addicted. Seeing what it's done to the people I care about, I'm glad I did. Things got worse when she suggested I start seeing the same second doctor she was to get twice as many pills. It was hard for me to do it, but I told our doctor what she was doing. She never went back to our doctor or spoke to me again. A month after Sean's suicide one of her friends called to tell me what happened.
For the past ten years I've been spiraling downhill. I had constant pain in my pelvis but I was pushing through. When my brother killed himself I was holding on by a thread, but I felt I could push through it. When I got that call about Sara though, something inside me broke. The human brain is not meant to remember pain, so while people think they remember they really don't. Every single morning I wake up in pain. Sometimes it's a little, other days it's a lot, but it's always there. Once I lost my brother and my best friend though, I broke. For the first year I barely got out of bed. I slept and watched TV. Dustin tried to help me get better at first, but once he got addicted to my pills, that stopped being a priority. If I got better, the pills would go away. I would start fighting to get better, he would start physically and emotionally tearing me down to convince me it was hopeless. It wasn't until the past year that I realized how hard he was working to keep me down. After ten years, I have finally realized I've hit rock bottom. I have a long way to go to get back up, but I finally believe I can.
I still have pelvic pain, but things are getting better. I was on an extremely high dose of opiate medication, but thanks to my doctor here, that issue is close to being resolved. My fiancé was a kind and giving man before my sister's death. Shortly after though, he started stealing my pain pills. Over the next ten years he became more violent, cruel, and eventually I was living in near constant terror of him. He threatened me with knives repeatedly. He tried to kill me more than once. The worst two I am still dealing with in PTSD therapy. The first time was when we were in Utah. He used to smoke crystal meth as a teenager in Kansas and bought some from a girl he worked with. I had no interest in trying it, but was too scared even then to say more than "this seems like a bad idea". He was awake for 32 hours, and during that time, he punched me, tried to strangle me, and so much more. When his behavior started becoming erratic, I took his Spyderco Endura and put it in my pocket. When he started coming at me with one first raised again, and the other reaching for my throat, I burst into tears, shaking like a leaf. He seemed to snap out of it, and came to hug me. He looked crushed when I cringed, so I thought he was OK. While hugging me, I felt his arm pull tight on my body, and his hand on my pocket. He jumped when it wasn't there (I'm a lefty, and I know that's what saved my life), and I backed away from him. His pupils were dead black. This is a medical condition known as Interment Explosive Disorder. In other words, a person who can be kind and normal most of the time, then explode into a deadly rage. The second worse was in a hotel stairwell. He was trying to kill himself, and I refused to leave him alone to do it. He dragged me into a stairwell, spun me around and put me in a choke hold. Just before I black out he whispered, "Maybe this is for the best, we can die together." It was enough. I elbowed his thigh, then his nuts, and ran in terror.
I could go on, but I think you get the idea. My ex sent numerous emails under my address to my friends and family without telling me. Before I knew it the only people in my life were my mother and father. I'm sure he would have done the same to them, but he needed their money. On average, he lost his job 1-3 times per year, and they would pay the bills. They also paid for him to go to rehab, get therapy (he quit because his father wouldn't stop telling him it was only for weak, pathetic people). When he did leave me, he cleaned out my bank accounts after destroying my credit. Worst of all, he took my car. This is the second time in my life my car has been taken from me.
My sister was my hero. She was a father, a teacher, and my best friend in the world. He and his wife were also terrible with money. When their daughter was born in 2000, Sara asked if I would move in with them. He made it seem like it would help all of us. I would pay for a third of everything, and be able to start saving money. That's not what happened. Their car had been repossessed, and their credit was in shambles. They took out four credit cards in my name (I had non until then), and asked to use my credit to get a new car. They told my niece slammed her head on the bus window. I couldn't let that happen again so agreed. It was meant to be for all of us, but that never happened. Every month when I got paid, they had me cash my check and give it to them. I had no cash of my own. Of course I could take the car whenever I wanted, but where do you go and what do you do with no money?
To help them save for a down payment on a house, they used the car to deliver papers. By the time that was done, the car had 90,000 miles on it, ruined shocks, and other issues I can't begin to name. My sister in law worked 3 nights one week, four the next at IBM. On the nights she wasn't working, she usually went with Sara to deliver papers. That meant most nights I stayed at the house all night with a baby who had extreme colic. Shortly after Sean and Jess moved into the new house they bought (I was not invited to come), I was fired. I can't really blame them. A boss will forgive a mother who makes mistakes because her baby is keeping her up, but certainly not an aunt (or as my sister in laws friend used to call me, their live in baby sitter).
When I did get my own place in Boulder, I was out of work, but had a nice bike. I didn't want a car, didn't need one, and certainly couldn't afford it. When my brother asked if I wanted it back, I told him all this. Still, one night he came to my house and tossed me the keys like it was a gift. Because it was in my name, I had no choice but to take it. My sister in law always disliked me, and I have no doubt taking my money, and forcing the car on me came from her. The results were the same though. The loan company allowed you to skip four payments a year, and they did that and somehow convinced them to allow more. So I had three years of payments on a car I didn't want and couldn't use.
Because my sister felt bad, he tracked down a dealership that was doing an end of the year sales event. That was how I got the Civic. It was the first new car that was 100% mine. I kept it clean and spotless, did tune ups and oil changes regularly, and planned to make it last as long as possible. If well cared for, a Civic averages 200,000 miles. Then my ex started using it. Once I became disabled, he used it 95% of the time. He filled it with garbage, food left overs, and burned the interior with cigarettes. He put numerous dents and scratches in it. It tore my heart out to see him do that? Then when he left, he drove off with it and refused to bring it back. He sent me a Skype message saying if we tried to take it back he would set it on fire. He also sent another saying if my parents and I caused problems for him "I may not be able to be happy, but I can leave my share of blood on the walls." I have no words for how happy I am he's in another state.
I'm living in my parent’s basement in Vermont now. My brother and best friend are dead. The friends I had here before are either gone, or are people I want to avoid. Because of my pain condition I still have to take some OxyContin until my doctor finishes stepping me down. I had my doubts about telling you this, because I know it greatly decreases my chances of getting any help. I can tell you (and give you numbers of doctors who will confirm) that people with pain do NOT get high from OxyContin if they take it right. It isn't easy. You have to feel pain every single day. If you only take enough so that you can tolerate the pain, it will not impair your judgment. I won't lie, there are days when I wish I could take enough so I would feel no pain. Just one day from time to time so I could feel like everyone else. When that thought crosses my mind though, all I have to do is remember Elizabeth. She kept doing that until it reached the point where the pills no longer worked for her pain. All I want is these pills out of my life as quickly as possible.
There's something else you should know. I never have, and never will drive impaired. Before I got my driver’s license, my mom had to hire a private instructor. She had to do this because I had a paralyzing fear that I could hurt or even kill someone with my car. I never drove drunk and I would never take a dangerous amount of my medication. Feel free to speak to my parents (who hate these pills almost as much as I do). They will tell you I have always been a safe driver, and even when I was on a far higher dose of medication than I am now, I was a much better driver than Dustin.
I am desperate to rebuild my life. At the very latest, this time this year, I will be off all my medications. I'm currently living in my parent’s basement, and I have no friends my own age. More than anything I want to start taking the steps to rebuilding my life. I want to go out and meet friends my own age. I want to get a job so I can stop taking money from Medicare and SSDI.
Before I was disabled, I worked full time doing computer support for Department of Homeland Security. I started there in early 2008. As I'm sure many of you still remember, there was a lot of fear that another terrorist attack could happen. When I took that job, I was told in advance that if we were attack, I would be required to stay no matter what. We would sleep in shifts on cots to make sure every necessary computer system was up and running. While it is nothing compared to the brave men and women who risked their lives in Iraq and Afghanistan, I still took pride in that job. Just knowing I would be doing something to help in a situation like that meant a lot to me. I was the first contractor to be made a supervisor, and was excelling before my illness. One of the reasons my disability benefits was approved so quickly was because the judge confirmed I tried to keep working. Often I would spend nights standing at my desk while cringing rather than go home.
While working, I was also going to Front Range Community College close to full time. I maintained a 3.75 GPA, and was about to transfer to Los Angeles office before my illness. These are not dreams I have given up on. I hope to go back to school, and find a way to use my illness to help others. I want to reach out to high school kids who risk becoming addicted to drugs. To help them understand it can happen so much easier than they think. Look at me. I went to a doctor. The doctor said, "take this, you'll feel better." Now its ten years later, and said magic medicine has stolen a decade of my life. Over the years I wanted to quit, but Dustin convinced me I would never get better without them. In reality, if I got better he would not only lose his pills, but his control over me, my money, and everything else I did for him. I want to try to work with pain patients and families. To help make them understand we are not drug addicts. We are people with pain who got bad advice from a doctor and need help to get better.
I realize you probably have people who are more deserving than me. I guess I'm just hoping you may have advice. I have $1,000 right now. My dad has four classic cars (none of which I can drive), and a set up on par with any mechanic you could think of. If you have a car that needs work, or suggestions for someone who would be willing to set up a loan with someone on disability it would mean the world to me. If asked, I could tell you who I was before I met Dustin, and the beaten down person Dustin turned me into. Ask me who I am now, I honestly have no idea. All I can tell you is I am sad, broken, and lonely. Other than my parents, I have lost all the people I loved most. Part of the reason I stayed with my ex was safety. Yes he might hit me, he might even kill me, but I knew what to expect. The idea of going out, making new friends and trying again is terrifying.
After working with my therapist this past year though, I've decided to give it another shot. She's told me I'm bright, kind, giving, and have a lot to offer the world. I would like to believe that's the truth. The first car I ever owned was a VW Bus, and I loved it more than anything in the world. I sold it to pay bills (and also because I needed a garage like my dad’s to get it running right), but it brought me so much joy. Once I got over my fear of driving, the happiness it brought me was indescribable. I would take it deep in the Rockies, find a place to park, then hike or write in my laptop for hours. For as long as I can remember classic car shows have been a big part of my life. Certainly a lot of the best memories come from them.
At the rate I'm going, I'll be off my medication soon. I desperately want to be prepared to start working and hopefully going back to school as quickly as possible. My father is 75 and my mother is 62. I want to be healthy and working long before either of them pass on. They have already lost two children. I need them to know I'll be fine when they're gone. I realize you mostly help women with children, but my hope is you can find a way to make an exception in your heart. Perhaps I can do volunteer work or something. Because I'm stuck at home a lot right now, maybe there are things I can type or email. I'm good with computers, and could certainly remote in to repair them. Maybe I could get my dad and his friends to donate some time to help repair cars you're giving away, or pass out requests to help your group at their car shows.
I'm sorry if I sound pushy. I have been hiding from the real world for a very long time. Until recently, all my emotions have been shut off. If you feel nothing, you can't get hurt. I just want to start picking up the pieces of my shattered life. Getting out of this basement and meeting people my own age would be a huge start. As for a car, getting one that at long last couldn't be taken away from me would be a gift from god.
Please consider my request. If you feel there are those who are more deserving, I completely understand. If you have any ideas or suggestions on other ways I could do this I would be forever grateful.

[Kenna]

I need a place to live. I am homeless coming off an OxyContin, and I am bouncing around sometimes walking around for hours with no were to go. I work 2 jobs. I can pay rent. I just can't afford to pay to move into a place on my own. I would love an apartment with utilities included.
I have been bouncing around for almost 5 years, batting OxyContin. I need an apartment to get custody of my son back. I work as much as possible so I can finally have my son home with me. I would like a place for me and my son to be together, and a place to call home. Please respond to me ASAP. PLEASE just need to know if there any options out there that might help me and my 9 years old.

[Kramer]

Hi. I just recently got out of an abusive marriage, my husband was on OxyContin. I am currently staying with my brother. My children's schools told me I am considered homeless and I am in desperate need of some assistance in paying for a deposit and 1st months’ rent as well as to pay for my water bill. I also totaled my vehicle right after I have no vehicle now and so I am desperately needing a vehicle now as well so I can get my babies to school also. Can I please get some help with that also? I really need help badly. In trying to find me and my children a place by the 1st of October if at all possible. PLEASE HELP MY FAMILY AND ME.
Please reply back as soon as you possibly can. Thanks.
Sincerely