It's been thirty one days since I touched a narcotic.
Not even any ambiene.
I'd pride myself on this accomplishment, but it's also been twenty days since I've eaten any solid food. I'm not starving, but I don't feel my best. This fasting is for my surgery on Monday. They didn't tell me to fast, but I want the anesthetic to really kick in, so I'm not eating until the day of the surgery (afterwards) and while I want to say that I am never going to touch narcotics again, I know that's just not true. I know that eventually I will fall from grace.
I've separated myself from my family. I miss them incredibly, but at the same time, I can't go home until Sunday. Just in time to miss Matt's birthday. But I am happy. I had a good run out here in old LA and I certainly feel closer to my friend Sid for this experience. I'm hoping to come back in the summer and really see all that Los Angeles has to offer. Good stuff that is.
So if you're in Recovery like I am, congratulations! If you've made it as far as I have, double congratulations! If you're further, you need a medal. At first I was weak. I stayed up all night with sweats, neuropathy, horrible pains. But I feel better now. I feel like I can conquer this and get on with my life. My doctor says there is no end. That I will soon be back mooching pops off of people and blowing my money on heroin. No, not likely.
Now I must head off to bed. It's only 8pm here, but I feel like it's 10pm. I just haven't adjusted to the new time zone. I guess since I'm leaving in a couple of days, there's no need to try, now.