Friday, February 8, 2013

Just a Little Morning Rant

There's a story on the New York Post Web site today about a "fashionista" who committed suicide. I don't know why I even clicked on it.

OK. Yes I do.


Anyway, the story begins by talking about this young woman's contentious relationship with five "frenemies." It talks of her erratic behavior. It names names. It discusses how this woman left a suicide note barring the women from her funeral. It shares the Facebook message of one "frenemy" who told the woman to "Go try to kill yourself on Xanax again, you unstable loser."


And, then, it is not until the seventh paragraph - the SEVENTH paragraph - that the story says the victim's bag, which held the note, also held prescription drugs such as Adderall and Klonopin. 


Is anyone ever going to start discussing prescription drugs and the toll they are taking on this country? Ever? 


You know what was found in my ex-husband's car after his erratic behavior and his death, a death that was preceded by punishing words to someone who was his friend and who he suddenly deemed his enemy? 


Klonopin. 


Do you know what I found in his car's glove compartment after every instance of frightening behavior, violent outbursts, stumbles, falls, financial devastation, cruel behavior? 


Klonopin. 


Maybe doctors should start thinking about what they're prescribing. Just a thought. I'm not a medical professional, but I'm pretty tired of people acting like prescription drug abuse isn't a horrible scourge that is increasing every day. I'm pretty sick of doctors who say, "Oh, you have restless leg syndrome? Here you go, buddy, fill this prescription and then come back for more." 


And maybe people should start thinking about what they're putting into their bodies. Maybe just because something is legal doesn't mean it's completely safe for you to sit around "eating" pills like fucking Pac-Man. 


Goddammit. 


Do you think my ex-husband killed himself because he was mad at me for answering my telephone that night? 


Or, just maybe, was his mind completely fucked from regular and consistent abuse of something you can get from every Doc in the Box in America? 


Yeah, I'm pretty sure it was that one fucking phone call. 


While I certainly understand that many people benefit from the use of prescription drugs, I also doubt everybody and their damn dog needs to be taking sedatives and anti-anxiety medications. 


I also know for a fact that even trained professional in rehab facilities seem to downplay the toll it can take. 


Instead of rewriting this incident about one of the several times I drove my ex-husband to rehab, here's a little excerpt from my book: 



           I answered questions about Charles’ pill abuse and its effect on us. Then the woman said something to us that I will never forget. 


“Well, it really sounds like he just needs to learn to say ‘No,’” she said.
I was stunned into silence. “No DUH,” I wanted to scream at this woman. I didn’t. I rarely screamed the things I wanted to scream. What I did was nod. Maybe I hadn’t told my side of the story well enough. Maybe my aversion to drama and self-pity made it all seem less serious than it was. 


Did she put us off our intended course because it was a Sunday evening and the facility couldn’t confirm our insurance? The woman gave Charles a number to call so he could sign up for an out-patient program. She sent us on our way and we walked back out to the parking lot, defeated. Charles tossed his duffel bag into the back seat and we drove to Birmingham in near silence. We were like would-be vacationers full of adrenaline and good intentions who had arrived at the airport only to find that our flight had been canceled. 


Charles never did go to the out-patient program. On that Sunday, he was a man who recognized that he was powerless in the face of his addiction. And by the time the sun rose on Monday he was just a guy who needed to say “no,” and how hard could that be? He could do it on his own. No big deal. We would simply remain on the road we’d been traveling all along.


Maybe all of this could be that woman’s fault. I could drive out to that place and deliver this tragedy to her. I could watch her stagger under the weight of it while I tell her that she is a complete and utter failure and she should find a new line of work.




Wake the fuck up, people. 


/end rant



Related links: 
GWB jumper’s 'frenemies’ say she was unstable and started online feuds

5 comments:

  1. My doctor prescribed Klonipin when I started having trouble related to Iraq. Eventually it only contributed to my anxiety which compounded my problem. Some months later I attempted taking my own life. At the time I didnt know it was the problem. Sometimes I wonder why we even have doctors? How about a pill vending machine with a questionaire on a video screen. Im sorry for your loss, I truly am Amy. I could have been Charles. Seems like closer monitoring at least should be mandated though that sounds laughable considering the in person "care" Charles received. Im sorry you have to carry the enormous burden of pain and righteous anger you may have. I hope you are able to find some peace. Joe L.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I'm so sorry for what you've had to go through, Joe. A pill vending machine with a questionnaire on the screen would be exactly like most doctors today.
      I think, personally, I have found my own bit of peace. But I can't help getting worked up when I see others going through the same pain and loss. I can accept my own loss, but I just can't stand it happening again and again to other people.

      Delete
  2. THANK YOU AND THANK YOU.

    Wake the fuck up people. This is a huge problem. This couldn't have come at a more important time for me today as you know.

    That is a truly sad story about the jumper. Who on earth thinks its "ok" friend or enemy to talk to someone else that way? WOW. People and their suck never cease to amaze me.



    ReplyDelete

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.