I’ll Trade You Two Smokes For Your Klonopin

April 26th, 2011 | Add a Comment

The clients paced the rehab premises in the early morning sunshine like jail inmates awaiting their verdicts. They sure looked like a glum lot, sloppily dressed in their pajamas and slippers (what I would later term “rehab uniforms”) but, having just come from an intervention served cold, I was probably the most glum of all. How did I end up here?

One tour of the grounds and two lungfuls of secondhand smoke later, I met my roommate.
“Here, this really helps,” he said to me, tossing me a new pack of cigarettes and some gum.
“I don’t smoke,” I replied.
“You will,” he said assuredly.

What was I supposed to do with this pack of gum and cigarettes? Was I supposed to use them to barter for things I really wanted, like in prison movies? That pillow will cost you three Parliaments and four pieces of Trident! (Can you break a Marlboro Red 100? I haven’t got anything smaller…)

As my withdrawal symptoms kicked in during the first week at rehab, I realized that the cigarettes and gum were to distract me from the pain; The pack of cigarettes was gone within a matter of days–I wasn’t allowed to get high anymore, but I was more than welcome to develop an addiction to nicotine.

I heard about Dave before he’d heard about me. He was the kid who had stolen two extra trazadone from the nurse while she wasn’t looking and had been placed on behavioral contract, which meant that he merely lost his computer privileges. Would the consequences have been greater if he had stolen a harder medication?

“Hey man,” he said as he flipped the hood of his sweatshirt over his head.
“I’ll trade you two smokes for your Klonopin.”
“They haven’t got me on Klonopin,” I told him, the taste of Suboxone fresh on my tongue.
“Oh. Well, do you want some? I broke into the med room last night. Someone left their keys in the door.”
“No thanks, I’m good” I declined politely.

They had me on plenty of meds already: Suboxone, Chlorahydrate, Vistoral, Clonodine…. I had just quit dope, so why not practice total acceptance and let the professionals fuck me up? I didn’t want to lose my computer privileges like Dave. After all, I was trying to keep my side of the street clean, hoping that they would let me out on good behavior.