Sunday, March 18, 2012

"...........What Dreams Are Made Of."

Goo ftenoon;
(Note to self....remember to hit keys on left side of keyboard as if trying to poke finger through table!)
Well by looking at the greeting  and reminder above you can see I'm back on the laptop

So, it's been an out of kilter day after an awful night. The flashbacks/dreams have returned. Waking up in a cold sweat, screaming, is not a lot of fun. Neither is waking up, or more properly, almost waking up unable to move, see, or scream, but fully able to hear and feel pain.

It's all a mish-mash of trauma memories, anesthesia awareness, (also known as 'unintended intra-operative awareness), depression, mid-range fever, neurosis, psychosis, anxiety, and quite probably a couple long lost and forgotten lysergic acid diethylamide molecules and some of the doctor prescribed psychotropics breaking free from decades of  involuntary encysted or fat encapsulated slumber and wreaking their revenge by going on a "Thelma and Loiuse" style joyride through the bloodstream to the brain and raising holy hell along the neural pathways.

This and the continuing 'gastro-intestinal complications' and the usual external issues plus the added worry of just when I need to vacate the shed and the (so far) lack of suitable replacement options have me as stable as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. 

The thing that really has me amped up and trying to find something funny, in a black and twisted way, in everything is that I hear/feel the needle calling me, not the drugs themselves in this case, but the spike, the lure of the ritualistic process of preparation, filling the syringe, removing all the air until the tiny globe of  silvery liquid on the tip signifies that it's ready, the chill of the alcohol swab on the skin, the smell and feel of the rubber tubing as it tightens, the bulge of the vein, the first prick of the skin, the slight pain as it slides into the vein, the pressure as the plunger is pulled back allowing a tiny swirl of blood to enter the barrel, mixing in a psychedelic vortex of red and quicksilver, the back pressure as the thumb presses the plunger down allowing the slightest taste to enter the bloodstream, and sometimes the back and forth play as the plunge is pressed and pulled back again in a teasing dance of deliberate procrastination, and then, the final full force plunge as the now red liquid flows out of the chamber, to be replaced by the black rubber of the end of the plunger, the flopping of the rubber tubing as the knot is untied and pressure is released, the 'snick' as the point is removed from the skin, and the brilliant red dots against the pristine white of the napkin..............

And that's all the time we have for today students, see you tomorrow......

Lte ve.........


No comments: