So, thanks to efforts of the Wonderful Wendy and a buncha other folks who really DID care if I lived or died (even when I didn't) I'm clean of the demons created by Percotte, Oxycontin, Oxycodone, Opana (a synthetic narcotic that will change your world, brother) Dilaudin, Methedone – oh yeah, I was BEHIND this shit, because my back hurt. What? All that because my back hurt? That and more – weekly visit to the “ambulatory surgery center” where they whacked my spine with cortosone, stem cells, dishwater, drill bits – you name it, I had it jabbed into my spine AFTER they jabbed me fulla Profolol (yup the same “milk of amnesia” that poor Micheal was on.) BUT after a certain point the drugs stopped killing the pain and paid far more attention to killing me. Everything spun sideways – and my back actually MANUFACTURED pain so it could have more drugs. I know this sounds like some kinda science fiction – but ask your doctor, he'll tell you this happens is people who have been taking painkillers for a long time, and friends – I took them for a long time. Like, four years long time, all the time. I was doing the best I could to kill myself.

Anyway, that was then and this is now.