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Authors: Kevin Sharp, Jeanne Gere
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tormenting my soul. I was still allowing small matters to become huge dragons in my life. I wondered if I would be able to find a girlfriend or wife who would want a man that could never have children, walked with a limp, could never be athletic, have a tough time making a living, and who had scars all over his body? I was consumed with these questions. I also had a very bad case of survivor’s guilt. I would lie awake wondering why so many kids on the ward had lost their fight and died. Why I was spared and not them? I began to question my mortality and would do reckless things, like driving very fast when I was behind the wheel of my car.
Then one day I started doing something that I never dreamed was in me to do. I began cutting myself on my arm and chest with a razor and a knife. I convinced myself that the pain of the cut would ease the pain I was feeling inside. I was so preoccupied with cleaning up the blood and tending the new cut that I would forget my problems for those few minutes. But there was one problem with my new coping method. It didn't fix anything. Surely you can lie, cheat and steal to avoid your problems but now you only have more problems. I still had my other problems and now on top of them I had scars on my chest and arms that I had to explain to my mom. When she realized what I was doing, and saw my self- inflicted wounds, it broke her heart. It was the look in her eyes that made something change in my heart. I realized at that point that the lie I had convinced myself of was just a bunch of bull. I was not feeling any better by cutting myself, it was not a great coping mechanism and I was not the same Kevin I used to be before my illness. Now that I was going to be living a long life I knew I had to pull myself together and start climbing out of this deep darkness I was in. I prepared myself for another fight. This time it was a battle to win back the rest of my life.
As time went on I was still on daily pain and depression medications. I could not function as the same person I was before my illness. That boy was long gone. I couldn’t put my finger on the exact direction I was heading and I wasn’t sure of my destiny. I struggled with so many questions and not enough answers. I felt alone and helpless. I just wanted to be back to the Kevin I was so many years before. I needed to find a way to start over, but the thing I needed to do most was to stop taking the drugs that the doctors had prescribed and get free to live again. I had to find out what was worse, the pain or the side effects of the many drugs.
I made a drastic (and not so intelligent) decision. I quit all of my narcotics on the same day! I imagined it would be difficult, but I never actually comprehended how life threatening it would be. In a way, I’m glad I didn’t know. The only thing I was certain of was that I had reached the end of my rope of having crazy thoughts, feeling lethargic about life and not knowing what to do next.
I decided to stop the anti-depressants, the pain meds and the drinking all at once, cold turkey! At this point I was on methadone (a form of heroin) for my pain. This wasn’t going to be easy.
What came next was grueling, painful and inhumane, but I was in control of my destiny for the first time in years. To me, this move was a positive one. Despite my agony, I could almost envision a ray of sunshine peeking out from the dark clouds.
For the next twenty-eight days, my life was exactly what you would see in a movie about a drug addict going cold turkey. Shaking, convulsions, sweating, throwing up, and insomnia were typical behavior for my level of addiction. My body was going to fight me every step of the way, but my will to fight back was stronger. I lay on my parents living room floor day after day trying to survive, promising myself that if I wasn’t better by morning I would go to the hospital. Finally, on day 28 I kept that promise to myself and went to see my doctor.
Then one day I started doing something that I never dreamed was in me to do. I began cutting myself on my arm and chest with a razor and a knife. I convinced myself that the pain of the cut would ease the pain I was feeling inside. I was so preoccupied with cleaning up the blood and tending the new cut that I would forget my problems for those few minutes. But there was one problem with my new coping method. It didn't fix anything. Surely you can lie, cheat and steal to avoid your problems but now you only have more problems. I still had my other problems and now on top of them I had scars on my chest and arms that I had to explain to my mom. When she realized what I was doing, and saw my self- inflicted wounds, it broke her heart. It was the look in her eyes that made something change in my heart. I realized at that point that the lie I had convinced myself of was just a bunch of bull. I was not feeling any better by cutting myself, it was not a great coping mechanism and I was not the same Kevin I used to be before my illness. Now that I was going to be living a long life I knew I had to pull myself together and start climbing out of this deep darkness I was in. I prepared myself for another fight. This time it was a battle to win back the rest of my life.
As time went on I was still on daily pain and depression medications. I could not function as the same person I was before my illness. That boy was long gone. I couldn’t put my finger on the exact direction I was heading and I wasn’t sure of my destiny. I struggled with so many questions and not enough answers. I felt alone and helpless. I just wanted to be back to the Kevin I was so many years before. I needed to find a way to start over, but the thing I needed to do most was to stop taking the drugs that the doctors had prescribed and get free to live again. I had to find out what was worse, the pain or the side effects of the many drugs.
I made a drastic (and not so intelligent) decision. I quit all of my narcotics on the same day! I imagined it would be difficult, but I never actually comprehended how life threatening it would be. In a way, I’m glad I didn’t know. The only thing I was certain of was that I had reached the end of my rope of having crazy thoughts, feeling lethargic about life and not knowing what to do next.
I decided to stop the anti-depressants, the pain meds and the drinking all at once, cold turkey! At this point I was on methadone (a form of heroin) for my pain. This wasn’t going to be easy.
What came next was grueling, painful and inhumane, but I was in control of my destiny for the first time in years. To me, this move was a positive one. Despite my agony, I could almost envision a ray of sunshine peeking out from the dark clouds.
For the next twenty-eight days, my life was exactly what you would see in a movie about a drug addict going cold turkey. Shaking, convulsions, sweating, throwing up, and insomnia were typical behavior for my level of addiction. My body was going to fight me every step of the way, but my will to fight back was stronger. I lay on my parents living room floor day after day trying to survive, promising myself that if I wasn’t better by morning I would go to the hospital. Finally, on day 28 I kept that promise to myself and went to see my doctor.
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