11.14pm, 25/07/2017. A significant time in my little old life. I started using heroin in the year 1999. 36 years old, imagine that, after dealing for fifteen years and seeing so much I fell into the abyss. After many years in 2010 I smoked my last bag of gear. Since then I have been on the substitute, subutex, put a tablet under the tongue every day and its all good. Last Tuesday I forgot to pick up my repeat prescription so the next day went to pick it up from the doctor surgery. I rode down on a bike, and halfway there I went flying off the bike sprawling onto the maine road. Bleeding and battered I carried on to the doctor. On arrival I am told that they have no permission to pass it over, they phone the drug service and are given permission to give it me. That is when they cant find it, and I stand sweating bleeding in front of them, and I tell myself to accept the situation gracefully. Something unheard of years ago, but I am told to come back the next day , so leave.
I decide that the time is right for me to quit subbys, going chemist every day, picking up a new script every fortnight. I have not had gear for years so I should be ok. I have enough to wean myself off and then cope with the withdrawal, its time to kick