I came to the following morning at about five. I didn't have a clue where I was for a second. Then it dawned, I had survived ! I was furious with myself for failing in this task. I sat up and realised I was in hospital. I began to get out of bed to get dressed and leave, when a nurse spotted me. She told me I couldn't leave until the duty psychiatrist had seen me. He came and told me what a fool I was. There wasn't enough inside me to kill me, but enough to do some brain damage. I told him I wouldn't be doing it again and he let me go. Now I thought the incident would be reported to my GP and Charing Cross, but as far as I know, it never was. Adapt, Adopt and Improve. Having walked the two miles home and slumped in a chair, I was left with the inevitable question "Now What?". Feeling lower than at any other time in my life, all I could do was think life sucked. I left my curtains drawn all day and refused any visitors. My partner Duncan, who had been called to the hospital, came to see me and tried to put a positive spin on things. It didn't work. The next day, Thursday, I returned to Charing Cross for blood tests, x-rays and another Testosterone injection. It didn't occur to me that the two events were connected, but looking back, of course they were. It was the end of week four, my brain was out of control and the emotions were high. Once injected, mental health began to be less of a problem. Rational thought returned. I dare say panic set in the chambers of our lawyers, because pressure began to be exerted for me to continue the court case and, by definition, work. During an emotional meeting with our Lawyer, Martin Webster, who pointed out we would all lose our homes and the business if we gave up, I agreed to see it through. I couldn't bear the responsibility of ruining my partners' and their families lives. There wasn't much time as the case was due in Arbitration Court on the eighth of May and I was the first and chief witness for our side. Committed??? perhaps I should have been ! I fixed my plan firmly in my sights. As soon as the court case was finished, I was out of there. Out of the business, out of London, out of the UK. I wanted so desperately to write. But it had to wait. I had to be focused on beating the cheat, who wanted to destroy me and my friends' livelihood. Last Injection...Or so I thought In all eight days were spent in the witness box by me. Six days of cross-examination. It was extremely taxing, but I left the box finally, knowing I had done my job, by telling the truth. By the end of the four week session the case was only half over, which meant another session had to be set. I'd had an injection in the middle of the case, so by mid June, I presented myself for another. Dr Press had news. He had located implants for me to try. Implants appealed to me, because the three month frequency meant, I would be able to live normally for a longer period between hormone replacements. These slow acting pellets differ from a shot, because they weren't such an impact on the body. As a result, it was safe to implant, whilst hormone levels were still above the level at which I began to lose control. Just a little nick Implant procedures are not as simple as first it would seem. Three pellets, about a centimeter long and half a centimeter in diameter, have to be inserted into the sub-cutaneous fat below the skin of the abdomen. A local anesthetic is administered into the area, before an incision is made. The tool used to implant the pellets is like a huge hypodermic, which is forced into the area to be implanted. Crunching sounds can be heard as it forces through the fatty tissue, until it is deep inside and ready for the first pellet. Each pellet is then pushed into the area, before a bandaid is used to pinch the skin together so the wound can heal. Hello New World....Goodbye Old The first implant worked, so I could look forward to three months of stable mental condition. After the five previous months, it was like I'd found a sandbank to stand on in the midst of a river, raging either side. Suddenly I could begin to trust how I would feel the next day. There was, to coin the cliché, a glimmer of light. It was the day I realised life could go on and get better, but only if I dealt with it. Meantime, I had the first hurdle conquered at last. I could rely on my brain again ! Perhaps more a liability, than a benefit, as you will see later on down this nine year journey. There will be some reference to hormone difficulties throughout the ensuing story, but they are fewer and further between. My new life begins at this point. With it came lots of challenges, trials and tribulations, triumph, disasters, humour and bizarre happenings. To begin with I christened myself, "Nick Nonuts".