longtailedhermit's Journal: Angry Ingrid

i just spent a long time typing this in once. i clicked 'save', but instead i was directed to some error page and my entry was deleted. i'm re-writing the whole thing.

my misfortune occured on sep 10. a few days later, a compartmental fasciotomy was performed to relieve microvascular pressure few days later at ucsf . i was hospitalized there for a week and received dilaudid and morphine in my iv. i was given percocet 10/325 (pfsst) when i was released. after having gone through those, i got a prescription for hydrocodone 10/325. finished them. now i'm only getting tylenol 3s. i take 1 every 6 hours and my doctor wants to see the bottle every visit to make sure i'm not doubling up on them. fscking A! quadrupling up doesn't take the edge off and barely keeps me from withdrawels.

During my stay in the hospital, Angry Ingrid crap-flooded my cell phone mailbox. she left 49 messages that went on for over an hour.

                                        Angry Ingrid

i feel like i'm in a patricia highsmith story. Angry Ingrid is Swedish, blond, blue, tall, and a former model whose mother is also a former fashion model. she was born into a country club lifestyle but is also kind of a townie. i met her in college at a coffee shop where i used to study. she was my first long-term gf. we dated on-and-off for several years. i really loved her and trusted her and had no idea of the dangerous things she was to later expose me to. i was naive then. she was the one who first turned me on to the pleasures of heroin and cocaine, and to the thrill of the needle.

like a female highsmith character, angry ingrid is a real peice of work. she is fond of claiming she has been raped during her adolescence. in fact, she still claims a new rape every year or so. she is obscessed with an x-bf from hs. his house looks like the batman mansion. every now and then she goes on about how he supposedly drugged and raped her in highschool. and then again a few years later..... she tells a convincing story, but knowing her the way i do, i'm sure this is a lie (or at least a gross exageration) that she tells in order to gain sympathy and manipulate people.

she also enjoys creating public scenes. not getting her own way usually sets her off. one time for example, when we were at neiman marcus, she saw a $500 sweater that she had to have. i was, of course, expected to pay for it. i patiently explained to her that i didn't have the money for it - i'm a poor college styudent. well, we were in a partiallyh secluded hall way by the bathroom when the inevitable argument really broke out. suddenly she shrieked, "HELP ME I'M BEING RAPED" in her shrill, earsplitting voice. before i knew it, i was tackled to the floor by a security guard. scenes like thta (and worse) happened \more and more frequently the longer i knew her. another time i was outside on the patio of the condo we were sharing at the time. she wanted me to come in and talk to her. i didn't want to because she was acting funny. so she called my parents and all of my family for that matter. told them i was stealing her allowance and keeping her prisoner. stealing her food... i eventually broked up with her. or so i thought. unfortunately, she's the kind of person that one doesn't break up with without her permission (like the Seinfeld episode). we've been living apart for more than a year now, and i've been trying to see other people. mostly my relationships have failed since then. inga is quite the cock-blocker.

so, the day of my accidnet [thursday], angry ingrid did some bad things. surprise surprise. 1st thing in the morning [6 or 7am], she woke me from my dxm daze honking her car horn. i got out of the bed (though i try to avoid beds and prefer to sleep on the floor on account of the intense pain that overly soft beds cause in my back. but this one was firm enough that it wasn't so bad. i can't do anyting about it anyway since the Shaharazad room [where i'm living]came furnished.] she was on the sidewalk outside the rooming house yelling up at my window for me to get up. i didn't want her to disturb the other residents, and if she did so, i thoght her behavior would get me in trouble. also, i was still tripping balls from dxm. -i had quaffed 2 bottles of robotussin dm the night before.

i was still pretty messed up, and in my drug-addled state, i buzzed her in. for some reason, i thoguth that if i was accommodating, she would behave and we would have a good time. also, a_ still wasnt' speaking to me after she threw me out on account of my having barfed after eating her smelly vag. so inga was pretty much my only chance of female company. she cam ein and the first ting she did was pick up a marylin manson cd. she started screaming at me and said i was a faggot for listening to marylin manson and that i was having buttsex with tom across the hall in the queen of sheba room. yes, that's really what it's called and tom is gay. she broke it and threw it at me. other than that, her mood was OK. so i thought things would go well. but remember, i had just come down from plateau sigma and was still too far out of my mind to realize how dangerous the situation really was and that it was not ok at all. i staggered into her car. i was doing the classic robo walk. robotussin, and other drugs that inhibit or block nmda receptors [phencyclidine, mk801, ketamine for example] tend to do something similar to the gate. she noticed that i was walking funny and said, 'why are you walking like that? did you get butt-hurt by your butt buddy tom?"

she drove me to cole valley cafe. as soon as she parked, i opened the door and puked up red robo goo all over the sidewalk. i stumbled out of th e car. we went into the coffee shop. i was still tripping hard and hallucinating like a motherfscker. the walls looked like they were embedded with untold millions of extremely ornate, animated heiroglyphs that would have taken an army of cgi animators to construct. she made me pay for her large tripple skinny soy late [easy on the soy] with an extra shot and a shot of hazzlenut what-the-fsck-ever she orders. i had to lean against the counter. i was too incapacitated to stand without swaying drunkenly. i had a plain cup of coffee for myslef, but after drinking it, i soon regretted it very much. i had to piss like a motherfscker. one of the side effecdts of a dxm is that it constricts the sphincter of smooth muscle lining the urethra. take enough of it and you can't piss. the muscles get too tight to pass fluid. if you drink too much fluid while your urethra is shut tight, your bladder will rupture unless you get a catheter. but my fears were baseless. i peed around noon (after someting like 12 hours of having to pee). that afternoon we had lunch at her step faterher's yacht club in sausalito...... then i got into her car again and ingrid drove for a while.

after my "golf" journal entry a few weeks ago, i had promised myself never to iv again, not only that, but i was going to quit both h. and c. i had planned to quit cold turkey... failing that, i would try a methadone clinic, but never h again. but as fate would have it, things didn't work out as i had hoped. ingy parked and reached up her skirt and whipped out a packet of mexican brown h. i couldn't resist. i told myself i would comprimise and not shoot it. what i did was melt it in water and squirt it up my nose where it would absorb. this method still gives a pretty good buzz if you do it right and keep your head back so the water doesn't drip out of your nose. it smelled kind of like raw fish and vinegar - like ceviche. then i would taper off.
she prepared a shot of heroin for herself . she cooked it in a spoon. i went next but without injecting it. she started driving again and became paranoid later as we drove. she had me hide the heroin in my underpants.

    she was talking about some high level lsd dealer (cleston L., named after the town drunk by his grandma in the village where he was born since his mom didn't know who the father was) she claimed to have known had gotten out of prison and had sent peopel after her. cleston had been high up in the lsd dealer world. he had the resources to hire a small private army of dead-end-kids driving around in black SUVs [but i remember it was vans not suvs as ingrid thought. maybe he changed his fleet and image.] and armed to the teeth. she flipped every time she saw a black chevy suburban or waht-the-fsck-ever it is. she kept asking if i'm involved in this. 'who's paying you?"... she was becoming more agitated. "are you working for cleston?"... i finally said "WHAT THE FSCK!!!@$! you're crazier than a sackfull of assholes!". by now we were on 101 going south and past san francisco. the tone of her voice changed immediately.

she said 'what did you call me?" and just went apeshit and started punching me and floored it. she was passing all kinds of traffic on curvy, crowded 101..
i started freaking, not that i wasn't before, but this was too much. after what seemed like hours, we got stuck behind some very slow traffic...i opened the door and jumped out of car. and slammed the tar out of depression and trauma. i rolledonce. i got up. the adrenaline rush had kicked in... it overcame the feeling of nausea and i was finally able to run without wanting to barf. she was driving back and forth along the road , kept turning around and yelling my name, then crying and pleading 'it's me ingrid, come back! bwa wha wha and trying to get me to get in the car. holdign up traffic and causing all kinds of problems. i ran to the beach and hid for a while then caught a bus home. that evening after i got home is when i had my accident.

since getting out of the hospitcal, for the past few days, i've been wearign a plastic bag over my han dbecause of te smell. i've been tring to avoid elen and the 'inn keeper' who reminds me of the sinister uriah heep from david copperfield.

tom came over today. [he lives across the hall in the queen of sheba room.] he offered to get me high. ellen was gone, so we felt like we were safe if we didnt' blow th e marijuana smoke otu the window.we hot-boxed the shaharazaad room (my room). only a few close peopel knwo about my accident. tom is 1 of them. i felt comfortable with him around. he's closing on a condo in just on the other side of sutro hill i nthe castro in a few days. his boyfriend is leaving him bc he doesnt' like the condo....

                                                emotionally

tears flood my eyes as i think about this. i'm so disgusted, so mad at myself. i feel guilty for feeling sorry for myself. a future of being deformed looms over me, and it looks bleak. i'm in a lot of physical pain. my friends have abandoned me. like the man who crosses paths with a female highsmith character, my life is ruined.