This flex-time rehab had been recommended to me by the same doctor who’d prescribed 100 Vicodin every two weeks for fibromyalgia. After a couple of years under his care, I ran out of pills, but he was vacationing in the Holy Land with his family. I broke in to a friend’s house through the baby’s bedroom window and searched the cupboards for any old opiate – even cough syrup would work. Ninety in ninety is one of the outpatient program’s mess of requirements. They would teach me that addiction is a disease, that my attitude at meetings was created by my arrogance, and that I did, in fact, fit in. I had believed that my legal prescriptions were superior to parking lot drug deals, but a junkie by any other name…