One year.

Obviously no progress.

One year ago today my addict fiancee (I'm just going to refer to him as my boyfriend because I certainly don't see marriage anywhere in the near future) entered rehab for the first time (since I've known him.) What finally made him agree to go was that on this particular day he emptied out our joint checking account knowing full well that I had just mailed out the rent check. With this in mind he took the money and bought a lot of heroin. He had no shame in doing this. He waited until I was in the shower and snuck out of our apartment and ran to the bank, then his dealer. Once he arrived home and realized that all of our rent money was gone, he had some sort of revelation. Junkie revelations are usually short-lived however. But it hit him even harder once he ran out of drugs and began detoxing. I'd him seen him go through withdrawl twice before this and it was awful awful awful. Throwing up into a bucket for days, the sweating, the shaking, the restlessness. This time he knew he couldn't go through it for the 3rd time in 3 months and also was aware that he had majorly fucked us both over with our financial situation. Worse than ever before.

After many phone calls and scouring the internet, I found a detox center which would take him even without medical insurance. Getting him there was quite the struggle. I packed his bag, told him everything was going to get better now, and basically dragged his dopesick ass there. Upon our arrival we realized that this particular center mostly catered to the needs of homeless junkies. Most of them did not look thrilled to be there. Many of them had deep ugly track marks and looked him they were probably hiding needles in their pillowcases. But he was too sick to leave and upon failing his drug test he was in. The put him on Suboxone, which is like the new and improved Methadone. Once he was settled in off I went, worried the whole time that as soon as I left he would escape and get himself into more trouble.

But no, he did stay. And about a week later he was released after begging to be able to come home for Christmas. He was giving an RX for Suboxone and his schedule to follow up with outpatient. He seemed genuinely sorry for everything that happened and insisting from now on life would be different. That he was better. I believed him. It was everything that I wanted to hear.

On New Year's Eve after disappearing for an hour and upon his return seeing his pinpoint pupils, I knew the road ahead was going to be paved with disappointment and letdown. Unfortunately I was right.