I'm getting a little ahead of myself. Let me go back to where and when, I decided to take the road to ruin. I was a good child brought up by two wonderful parents. I have a sister who is seven years my senior that I loved to terrorize when I was young. But, we were very close throughout our lives. I made good grades in school and was even put into an honors class in the fifth grade because I tested extremely high in the IQ test I was given at that time. I'm sure I was the last of my peers, anyone would have thought would end up going through the things I have.
After spending a little over a month in the hospital, and another month and some days in a rehab center, I finally got to go home. It wasn't the "welcome home" I'd hoped for, considering I had gotten involved with a girl that ended up being crazier than I thought I was. Being as which, it was a short-lived relationship, thank the Lord. I'll leave it without much description. Trust me, you're not missing much.
Hearing the Doctor tell me that I had shattered my L1 vertebrae and was paralyzed from the waist down was an indescribable feeling. You think I would have been crushed, numbed or brought to the thought that I couldn't go on living. But, actually with the addict mind set that I had, it made me think, "at least I don't have to drive to the methadone clinic and pay the $80 per week fee anymore." Because I just knew, that if anything was gonna get me put on some good pain pills it had to be this. I mean, what doctor is going to make someone that will never walk again and be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of their lives, do it without some good ass drugs, right?