I’m going to have to keep using dope until they move me up to 80. That’s not even enough to curb my withdrawals. “And they started me on a low dose, 30 milligrams. “I told my counselor I don’t do well in groups,” she said. “I don’t feel comfortable talking in front of people.” Group therapy sessions were mandatory at the clinic. I knew it would take time and I had to give her space.īut almost immediately there were disappointments. I had definite ideas about how she should rebuild her life, but I didn’t want to force anything. Now, finding a purpose, facing the mountain of damage she’s done to her life and relationships had to be overwhelming. Drugs had been her entire life the past two years. She needed stimulation, a goal, a purpose. She was adrift, listless, sleeping all day. I wanted her to get back to her art, her painting. It alleviated the majority of my anxiety.Īt this point I wanted her to rekindle old friendships, maybe think about getting a job. It made the drive longer, but I was ecstatic that she was back at home. Her father’s place was twenty miles north of Syracuse. The next day after dosing at the clinic, Naomi packed up her stuff, checked out of the hotel and we headed to her father’s house. My biggest problem now was figuring out what to tell my parents when they’d inevitably notice me slipping out of the house every morning. Naomi planned to be on methadone for no more than three or four months. It would be a bridge back to normal life. She had to come to the clinic every morning until she got take home privileges. But at least now she’d be under the care of health professionals. Methadone was controversial and had major drawbacks. We sat on a couch in a back room surrounded by people working on laptops, scribbling in notebooks. Naomi ordered a lavender latte and panini sandwich. “How’d it go?” I asked as Naomi got in the car.Īfter, we drove to a coffee shop on Westcott street for lunch. A few looked in their fifties and sixties. Most were in their twenties, buy many were middle age. Some had a hard-living look, leathery skin, matted hair, crumpled clothes. A constant stream of people flowed in and out of the building’s doors. I headed back to the car and pulled up in front of the building. It felt good to be out during the day among regular humans. I climbed the towering stairs of the Gothic music building and wandered around the quad, walking by the chapel and the Carrier Dome. I had time to kill so I walked up the road to the campus of Syracuse University. When we got there, I dropped her off in front and found a parking spot on the street in the next block. I arrived at Naomi’s in the morning and we headed to Crouse Hospital’s outpatient clinic.
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