Day 8

I woke up, feeling a little better and determined to get out of the flat. This was a necessity because I needed all the natural things in life aid in my recovery. Fresh air, gentle exercise and copious amounts of drugs. Being the son of a doctor, particularly a doctor whose favourite cure was bed-rest and prescription drugs, I have found my self hopelessly addicted to prescription pain killers. Unlike most addicts, I have never robbed a newsagents to get my fix, this is not a generalisation of addicts but a fact. I would definitely have stolen money from my mothers purse, if she wasn't the one providing the drugs. Sufficed to say ibuprofen is like methadone to my heroin. But times are hard and my needs great. After spending about 3 minutes trying to put on my trousers, I managed to struggle 150m down the road to the pharmacy (yes only wearing trousers) and get my ibuprofen. I got back home and couldn't really figure out if I was 'allowed' to take one or two at a time. I settled on two, who ever heard of overdosing on methadone!