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This dead guy
This dead guy
So I went over to the appartment complex a friend of mine lives at today after work. He's a recovering heroin user on methadone for maintenance.
The appartment building he lives in is full of drug dealers and users, and the remainder are insane or housebound. It's an interesting building. I've come to know most of the residents over the year or so that I've gone there.
He asked me for a dollar so he could get a pack of smokes and I walked with him to the corner store. As we moved out of earshot of the building's open windows, he began to tell me about the things that had happened that day.
He spoke about coming into the main entrance of the building and seeing women crying out loud "he's dead, he's dead!" He went into the appartment they'd exited and found a 55 year old man slumped over, dead from apparent heroin overdose.
He asked if they had called 911 yet, and they replied they weren't going to. They were so worried about their drugs and their freedom that they couldn't bring themselves to dial 911 to save the man's life.
It takes approximately three minutes to get to the appartment from the hospital. A trauma team, if called in time may have resuscitated him.
Now he's dead and all the armchair junkies in the world can't change it. Eventually 911 was called by my friend. The man who rents the appartment, Mr. C, is a drug addict himself. He's admitted to me that he does crack, but it's possible he does heroin as well. His dead guest, Mr. L, I imagine was there shooting up and overdid it.
Mr. C's son was murdered four months ago. He was 18 years old, his killer was 17. The official story is that it was a crime of passion related to a girl. Mr. C's son took a girl from the killer. Now, another corpse winds up being related to him in some way. Mr. C needs to lay off the drugs and get with god or something, because I've never seen a better candidate for N.A.
Just two weeks before this happened, the people I know the best at the appartment told me they are moving out. Like rats from a sinking ship, they're all spooked and getting out. I wouldn't have lasted as long as they have.
I didn't know the dead man, but I feel like I have a stake in the whole building. I know all of them, I've spoken to everyone who lives in the building at one point or another. This death is terrible, he must have family, he must have left people behind. The guy is dead, over wanting pleasure and avoiding pain.
It's strange when the body tells us so strongly to do the very thing that kills us. I smoked tobacco for 20 years, (since I was 11!) and quit in May. My body still wants a smoke, still wants the hit of whatever neurochemical nicotine provides. It was making me sick all the time, so I had to stop. I understand how a junkie could become addicted, how they could fall into the trap of it.
I wish I could cure these problems with science. What a fascinating job that would be, identifiying the chemistry of the brain for a drug, identifying the behaviors and the interaction with society addicts have, and fixing it all through insight and research. I get the impression that it can be done from what I know about psychology. Just a few chemical processes to map out...
So that was my evening, hearing that news and reflecting on it. My ex did my laundry and I tipped her 2 bucks for ironing my shirts. She laughed. Such a sweetie.