I was on narcotics for a month many years ago. Some guy pulled in front of my motorcycle and I broke five ribs. I was wearing a helmet and leather jacket so I didn’t become road pizza, but I still broke five ribs and that is painful. So my doctors prescribed me narcotics for the pain. The first result was that I could not drive for a month. The result I didn’t notice at the time was that I lost the ability to concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes. Long form writing was impossible. I couldn’t hold a thought together for that.
The really weird thing happened at the end. I’d been working to get myself off them by not taking them over the weekends. But I still needed them when I went to work. And as the workweeks went on, I needed them more than I did earlier in the week. By the time the last Friday came along, I was basically mainlining all my painkillers on the dotted line for recommended times and doses. And I was still looking for more relief. I still hurt. But my narcotics had this little line in the prescription. If taking 1 is not enough, take 2.
So on that last Friday morning, as the pain was not going away, I took 2. I remember the cloud descending. The cloud is a common way it is described by people who get off narcotics again. It’s this thing that slips between you and the world. I described it as being one step removed from the world and looking in. I told my mom what it felt like, and she said that she didn’t want me taking them anymore. I said neither do I.
And so I didn’t take them that weekend. And that hard pain never came back, so I didn’t take them again. And in a few days, I started to be able to think again. To hold long-term thoughts. To be able to write. I value my ability to think too much to ever want to go on them again. Because I really wasn’t myself while on them. And that is another thing people who have gotten off narcotics say. Narcotics change how we think. Make us something else than we really are. Beware of them.