Meth: a Ticking Timebomb Gone Viral

Birds of a Feather

I love irony, even (or especially) when it affects me.

I have a friend who moved away quite a few years ago. He met a girl and they lived in Tasmania until recently moving back to Queensland. My friend and I haven't always seen eye to eye, and since his return, the few times we have had conversations, it's become apparent that things haven't changed that much. I don't believe friendship should be solely based on similar viewpoints. In fact, different opinions can be a healthy thing, so long as both parties can accept the rule of when to agree to disagree.

An example came a while ago whilst he was up visiting his parents and we were discussing his and his partner's want to start a family. My friend smokes pot...a lot of pot actually, and when he brought up the fact that after several years of trying, they still hadn't fallen pregnant, I asked him (quite literally) a somewhat sticky question...had he been tested to check his sperm count? This obvious, yet obviously not very comfortable question, brought an immediate response that there was nothing wrong with his swimmers. His argument was that he had fathered a child some eighteen years ago, and this provided him with his ticket to sperm OKness.

Now, I must admit that I do, at times, have difficulty when it comes to social pretence. I lack tact and find it hard to pretend when there is an elephant in the room...I mean, it's a fucking elephant for God's sake. I also struggle to define the line between what is, and what is not my business. And upon reflection, this might have caused somewhat of a rift between my friend and me when I stated what was obvious to me, that if he was serious about starting a family, then he should just get his sperm tested for the sake of his partner and to rule himself out of the equation of why she wasn't falling pregnant.

It seems that was more of a problem than I realised. Now, when I had a vasectomy in 2005, the doctor ordered me not to have unprotected sex with my then-wife, but to ejaculate as many times as possible in the two weeks post-procedure, before getting the all-clear (excuse the pun). I thought all my Christmases had come (literally) at once. I followed the doctor's orders, regardless of whether my wife was actually present or not. After all, it was my gift to her and I was going to enjoy the benefits while I could.

Anyway, I think I mistook the reason my friend had reservations about delivering the 'stuff' I thought nothing of doing years before. I suspect he was afraid there may have been talk of his pot-smoking habit, and that was a subject he was not going to risk being on anyone's table for discussion.

When I separated from my wife, one of the first things I committed to was being treated for HepC. I thought no one would want me given I carried a blood-borne virus, and the fear of having to reveal this deep dark shame made seeking treatment a priority. The irony came when after one failed attempt and then on the second treatment finally getting the news that I no longer carried the virus, I thought everything in my life would change. There was this anticipation that I would suddenly become this other person, and when I realised the only thing that changed was when I got a blood test, all it showed was antibodies, but no virus, I had a feeling of disappointment. This lack of change was something I struggled with for some time.

There were, however, some positives other than I was no longer contagious and had a lot less chance of dying from liver disease. Before treatment, I stopped smoking pot, so I had the best chance of success. Being high on THC didn't feel like it did when I was younger anyway, and it was beginning to cause me to feel anxious, so giving up pot was a win-win for me.

Unfortunately, this caused a problem that I never anticipated. I must admit that after quitting pot, and getting the all-clear with HepC, I substituted smoking pot by using more and more meth. This had a knock-on effect, and I lost most of my friends. After all, I was a junkie, whereas all they did was smoke pot. And now that I no longer use drugs of any kind, I thought I would be welcomed back with open arms by my above-mentioned friend. But it wasn't to be. You see, I don't smoke pot. If a person who doesn't drink alcohol hangs out with those who do, it can make them feel a little uncomfortable. And I assume this might be the case for me not smoking pot because yesterday when I called in to visit him, he mentioned inviting another friend of ours over that night to hang out and, in his words, have a few hotties. But, I was conspicuously vacant from the invite list.

I had to laugh because the reality is that I don't particularly enjoy the company of those under the influence of drugs of any kind. I'm not a reformist and what others choose to do is their business, but I just think they aren't great company. Never mind, lucky for me I do enjoy my own company...and there is a lot to be said about that fact.