Stevil asked me how my stomach is yesterday, which made me think, "Damn, I haven't said diddly about the detoxing process in a while." Well it's been 2 1/2 months since deciding to drop the opiates. It's about 6 weeks since I took the last oxy. Though I still have brainfarts, my body seems pretty much okay with things. The 3-hours-in-the-bathroom-every-morning deal is over. Have to watch what what I eat, because indigestion comes on easily and fruits and veggies can put me back on the throne in a minute. If I forget to eat my stomach cramps in on itself. Leg cramps wake me up but they usually respond to pressing my philtrum and I go back to sleep. I've grown used to the pain and continue to ignore it as much as possible; along with that I seem to ignore other body signals like hunger and thirst. There's too much going on to ponder it anyway. Life is back, with all its inconveniences, frustrations and hilarity. And I'm too truly tired (as opposed to drug-induced slagginess) to care about pain. The good things- like having focus, laughing and not looking like a pathetic moron- are too quickly taken for granted once they're back. So I'm trying to stay mindful of how lucky I am to have survived it at all and to still have an IQ of over a hundred (some would debate that). The next issue is getting enough rest, and I'm working on that. It's been a big push between detoxing, Tommy's death and the move, not to mention the other assorted uproars I don't talk about here. And really, being tired is a tiny price to pay for having my life back and being functional. As they say, I'll sleep when I'm dead. It's all good.