“Ketamine”

Slip and fall...hit the ground and stand up.

The first point of contact was beloved.

Fear. Heavy breath. “Baby will you help?!”

I expected a laugh, skin graph, go fuck youself.

Instead I took my wrecked knucles out front of the airport and she sat by with me to show solidarity in an ER waiting room while the ligaments sunk the ship of my guitar plant and when we went in she was absolute in “hey my man”.

The first “doctor” said he could get shit proper but his fearful eyes said otherwise. The second “a specialist” said it was reduction...one closed and one open...I made my devious comments and all the while her eyes teared up and surfaced in such a way that said “babe, just chill, let them do their thing”.

So I did.

Ketamine...an IV and the words “tell us a story”.

I started with “you came to the right guy...this one tiiiiiii.....”.

That was it.

It wasn’t until I came up crying, snoting, freaking out and trying to rip the IV out of my arm and all I could say was “WE GOTTA GET OUT OF HERE!!!”

For three months after I was the most calm I’ve ever been...I don’t want to endulge me addictive personality...however...anxiety makes me wish for a solid get away, even if it’s fluid and I’m left dying alone someday.