Sunday, September 25, 2016

Pre-op surgery hallucination.

     When I was knocked out on ketamine and propofol for the resetting of my ankle, the dangerous, but delightfully psychedelic trip into the hole was one that any failed seeker would like to fuck with, at least once. The dream sedation starts, a warm bed with someone clothed for intimacy, not sexuality. The sedation goes from beautiful into pain. I am transported from that bed, to the trail I wrecked on. The doctor is portrayed by a blurry vision of Wilder's Willy Wonka. He's yelling at the other "care providers". I can't make out the words but I am aware that they are attempting to reset my ankle from a ninety degree brake.

    "Cut me Mick" the k-hole was amazing. I woke up feeling stoically warm, and perplexed by the hallucination. My nurse was a talented woman named Cambria. I had to express my empathy to her. Doctors can be total egomaniacs who have the patience of a two year old, and nurses do an amazing job with the holding of hands, the reassuring of pouty eyes, changing diapers and wiping snotty noses.

     Cambria had trouble making out my words, and was defensive at first but got what I meant with words "it's just empathy, I feel for you." Every few seconds my eyes would roll back into that dream world. I am a yellow bird in a dark and black world. The soot lays on my skin. I always wear black, I've never had a clue about what to do, now here I sit broken ankle, impending doom, still no clue what to do. The great transformation of myself will not occur, and the great transformation of the Earth will be born out of pure struggle. I got to keep telling myself that courage comes through suffering, but I've suffered enough to know courage isn't a trait I possess.

     Failed seekers, and world shakers come together.

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