Читать книгу Still Standing - Bucky Sinister - Страница 14

There's some weird thing that happens with addicts and their undies. It's one thing to not wash your jeans or your jacket; it's another thing to not wash your socks. We get used to being in utter filth. When you're fixing with puddle water or flat Faygo, having worn the same underwear for a few days is a nonissue.

But it's still gross. Not as gross as many of the other things that accompany addiction. Not as gross as abscesses. Not as tragic as meth mouth. Not nearly as unsanitary as the trash cans of vomit around the room or crapping in a bucket in the corner of the squat.

But you're not a junkie anymore. And even though you've made progress and you're much cleaner than you were, you still have a way to go.

I've known junkies who had trench foot, a foot disease common with the soldiers in the trenches of World War I. It was known as jungle rot in the Viet Nam War. The medical name for this is immersion foot. It happens if you never take your boots off for weeks. Prolonged exposure of the feet to damp, cold conditions can cause it. It can lead to gangrene.

When you're fixing with puddle water or flat Faygo, having worn the same underwear for a few days is a nonissue.

Buy some new socks and underwear and throw all the old ones out. Guys, you probably still have some tighty whiteys your mom bought you in high school. They have to go.

Change begins on the inside, and right next to your insides is your underpants.

We get so strange with our money while using that our idea of essentials gets all out of whack. I didn't have enough money for socks because that would supersede my whiskey money. Which leads me to the next thing on the list: