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Monday, September 18, 2006


A Request Post For Culayta

Morphine is wonderful----most of the time. A nurse started my iv on Saturday and it took her four stabs before she found a vein. Most of my veins have long rolled over and died from years of living on liquids through the arm. They are supposed to change spots every three days---but seven days latter all were still afraid to attempt the impossible. The iv was never changed.

Seven days latter it was the next Saturday at three a.m., and I knew I would be checking out in 12 hours. I was hungry. I used my silver tongue to talk a pretty young aid to sneak me a pack of cookies from the vending machine. She also brought me two cups of chocolate ice-cream---just because I was "sweet."

An hour later I was in horrible pain. I asked for a shot of morphine. It had been over 8 hours since my last shot. I was hoping I wouldn't need another injection because I felt my vein almost about to blow earlier.

I asked, "Can I take it in the hip?"

I could not---only through the iv ---the doctor's orders.

I winched the minute the drug hit my blood stream. My vein popped immediately. I rolled my head to the side and asked her to push it slow. I could feel the burn painfully spread though my entire fore arm. It hurt like a bitch---but I knew I would be higher than hell in a few minutes. When the nurse left I rocked back and forth in agony for over 20 minutes. Then I heard the click.

Usually morphine lets me rest easy. I want to die with a little too much of the stuff someday--but Saturday was different. Somehow by spreading in my arm--it was a disturbing feeling. Everytime I shut my eyes I was surrounded by all my dead relatives sitting in rocking chairs. I wasn't glad to see them.

This went on for about four hours until my wife showed up. I begged her for two of my vicodins and then I slept until check out time. It was a long strange trip.

So---I am become a boorish blogger with this sick shit. Next post is about something a little different.

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