Love's Naloxone Or Taking the Anti-love pill. Part Seven – Rush : Act 2

    The pain was so intense that he had to stop walking, resting on his cane on the stairwell. At this pace, he'd not only be late, but he might just miss the session. Today was a work day and even though he said that he'd miss out on the lecture and make it up another day he could not cancel on them. It wasn't just because that canceling too an act of God and he had to find someone who had the time to replace him, which was impossible this quarter, but he only had three students this quarter and no one was willing to take his session for three people. Even though he started with eleven they got whiff that he was tough. He laughed at himself and let a pained laugh escape into the echo of the stairwell. It seemed that all he had to do was tell the instructor that the students were goofing on the net, uploading their profiles and looking at photos while she went over transitive properties. So just two more floors above him were three students who were still willing to come and see him. If it wasn't for his supervisor and friend, he would have just lost the group and told that there was nothing to do but be unemployed and wait for the next quarter. When you're not in a click, then you are not worth the trouble for others to lie for it seemed.

 
    "People depend on me", he kept saying to himself as every step up seems to radiate more pain throughout him. It wasn't any way to deal with it either. He couldn't block it out. He couldn't recognize it and work with it. He couldn't even switching it over and make it glorious, sweet and delicious. It just hurt and he's already taken a mixture of eight pills that four would have stoned him. His world has been enveloped in this pain for the past three days with each day increasing. He noticed it when he got up one day and felt it in his inner thigh. He couldn't see where it was, but felt a lump.

 
Lymph nodes? Could he be fighting an infection? What the hell could it be? It frightened him enough to clean out what he had left in his account to wait two hours in a clinic and expose himself to the doctor. The doctor spoke of not knowing what is or what was. It should not be too serious. The next day he returned and the lump increased and sitting brought him the kind of pain that shook his teeth. He mumbled again on diet and exercise and handed him a $60 prescription for blood thinners. Nothing to worry about, see him if it still does not improve. He figured that he'd see him after work now since he probably needed the cash at this point. He'll go see him afterwards. He promised who ever would listen. Just let him endure this. Let him endure this for two more hours. Let him get them ready for their test on Thursday and then he'll go home and get help. Just need to climb a few…..more….steps.

 

I didn't get to high
Kept my feet on the ground

 
    There is something about pain that just seem to make time drag its heels. It was a feeling that conveyed that you were alive with more proof that you'd ever need. The steps were reached and the classroom approached as he mustered all his will to just last a bit more. He could not lie to save his life, but perhaps make the situation less. He asked for forgiveness for his lateness as he walked in. He was not doing to well, but he'd be good enough to get to work. They worked for a total of 40 minutes which he could not believe that he lasted that long. His responses were slow and his speech slurred. Probably the pills not doing what they need to do. He stood and prayed a prayer of the most sincere. He took up praying in the early mornings and the late night. He prayed not for help, but for understanding. He didn't ask for understanding of what the situation was, but to be understood. He knew he wasn't who he was anymore. He wasn't what he thought he would be by now and he felt deep in his skin that he disappointed so many along the way. He was so weak and could not endure any more of it. Praying was the only thing that kept the thoughts away. The easy out. The quickest way his fight against the world to join so many who have fallen. And so he prayed constantly to be understood. He asked for forgiveness and to not be remembered as a failure as a human being. Another to fall along the line to be forgotten.

For the heartache and the pain
Got a cause throughout my years

    For a while now he'd been questioning and wondering what was wrong with him. He could not keep neutral anymore. He could not give a "half pound of flesh close to his heart" since there isn't anymore left. Throughout his life he has always protected others. Saved people from the worst of the world and held them until the lives stopped falling among their heads. He pulled people back up and sacrificed more than he'd ever admit to individuals who still to this day would thank him if their paths were crossed. He gave of himself as a penitent man would. He fought a good fight and stood up to those who would crush the humanity of others. Some people did well and he left their lives for the better. Others latched on and dragged him low until he had to for them to let go for survival.
    He couldn't remember how he done it, but he ran out the room. He told them to work on a problem and ran out. He rushed to the bathroom as cold fear gripped him. He shouldn't be running, that will only make things worse. He needs to stop. He needs to stop running or its only getting worse. The stall closed behind him and the heat burned him in the cold day. His mind was racing, less than a minute. He had less than a minute. His hands went to his leg and he had less than a minute. It took eight to circulate completely through his system. The same amount of time light from the sun reached earth. The same amount of time it took an egg to hard boil. To water boil. His pants was hot and the smell putrid. The pain, where did it go? Why did it stop suddenly? Why is he sitting on the floor? That's not hygienic and he's going to get a blood born infection if he stays sitting. What happened to the pain? It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt and he has less than a minute. He needs to count. He need to count the ways, oh god how easy is it do die? An artery only took less than a minute and the towels are already soaked and it smells and I'm going to die alone on the filthy bathroom floor and it's not even a minute yet. Why? Why? Why am I dying?

 

All the chances that are blown
And the times that I've been down

    His mind was cluttered and clear. The pain left only dread in a primal knowing that things were not as they should be. The clot that the doctor spoke of not being dreadfully too dreadful had burst the vein causing the backed up blood to spill. Blood that has not been cleaned or oxygenated pouring out his wound black. The bathroom floor began to pool near his leg as he simply watching his own hands move without any thought behind them. They worked to stop the bleeding as he understood that an artery can lose all its blood in less than a minute. Hands work with quickened grace and his mind transported elsewhere.
    His mind raced as if it had to finish a long shopping list of thoughts before it would begin to shut down. His thoughts ran to his children so far away that he could not believe he could ever live another day without them. They were the best part of his life taken away so far that he could not believe he would ever see them again. Two years away and he miss them so. They would tell them that their father died so stupidly on the filthy floor. He should have fought harder to keep them in his arms. The day they left in the summer the night rained heavy and long. She invited him to stay over. She reached him the way she always reached him and told him to sleep over. He didn't need to sleep alone and cry tears. He didn't argue with her even though she was ready. He picked up his bag from the door and went over. They sat together. It was more than he could want until they went to sleep in separate rooms. With the rain beating across the walls as much as he wished he could cry out.
    His friends. Damn it, they would not like this at all. They didn't have enough time. He was always a buck short and an hour late. So many things he couldn't do because of time and money. He wanted to finish it off and to pay them back. Friends were so hard for him to make after changing lives. Without a past, the future was bleak for a while and he embraced his solitude as an exchange. It was better that way. You can not leave without paying the cost. He some how gathered them in some form of mockery. He could not keep them together so he was given more to look after. Nothing like guilt and duty again. And yet, she always took time to feed me. Have tea with him. Share a happy moment when he didn't feel worthless or a burden. They shared moments of laughter as they fell into their arms cackling in the moments with so little at hand but a need of laughter and ….

And of all my friends
You've been the best to me
Soon will be that day
When I repay you handsomely.

    His eyes closed as he thought of her. He wanted to be near her once more. His actions before was to spare her and himself from that awkward relationship. It came to light that it was not only him who attempted to reach out to her, but also reached out. He worried of his closeness to her and that he could not be neutral for her sake. He always believed that every relation he took part ended badly and he made his choice to save those few and special relationships by not letting them continue. It was better to keep a friend than to make another angry ex disappointed in him for not giving them what they wanted, while not knowing themselves what they wanted from him. There was a point where he noticed he reached out towards her and she brushed him away. It always seemed that he was touching her and it bothered him. It bothered him to want anyone to the point that you needed their touch. That need bothered him and he hated that he could not be independent of her. In the end, he figured she would do better without him. He was not only a bother, but a burden to her. Or perhaps it was something else. They were arguing as a couple and the sad part was that he was the only one reaching out to her. They were not a couple. He would only make things stupid.
    Except he was not the only one reaching out. She reached out for him also. The most he pulled away from her the more she pulled him close. The closer he wanted to get the farther way she moved. How can someone tell you that they don't want you, that you are simply fiends while hands reach out for you? He would call this out. He would question her thinking on why she would cross that line from friends to something more only to blur the line into nothing. He could play a role, but that role would have to be defined. He felt cheap and used after a while and his close friend simply reminded him of others who needed him in one manner while denying him others. It crushed him. What the hell was it about him? Why would every relationship become this? Why was he only good enough sometimes? Now he couldn't have friends. He's was going to have to keep people at bay to prevent this. Can't lose people who would talk to him, what else would he have left? He can live as a leaper or as a human being, but not if he had to live both roles.
    And yet, he knew he loved her still. Loved her enough to want to see her again, once more.

How I'd love to be your man
Through the laughter and the tears

    "I don't remember what she looks like", he croaked. He savored the moment's irony and closed his eyes. He was going to die wanting to be with the woman he loved and he couldn't remember her face. Story of his life. Wanting one thing and getting another. Death by irony, which is only poetic stupidity. He got the joke and it didn't make him laugh at the moment. He nodded off for a while and felt tired. Just going to close his eyes and let go.

Situation no win
Rush for the change of atmosphere

    He opened his eyes enough to realize that the minute was over. He counted to sixty again to confirm and figured after a while he should get off the nasty floor. He cleaned the mess and felt revulsion at the smell. He can't be dying if he grossed out, that's a rule right? He cleaned up enough to seem presentable enough and he took a breath in. He recognized this feeling. It was adrenalin. He reached his hand towards the lump and found a hole in his leg. The angel was odd and he couldn't grasp the feel of it or how deep, but he knew that the adrenalin would end and leave him a mess if he didn't take advantage of it. How long? A half hour? He move quickly and excused the session telling them that he felt very ill and he didn't want to make them sick. Not a lie since he still was wearing his blood in his sweats. He told them they were ready and wished them luck and love and like how that sounded. He walked as quickly to the office and spoke to his friend outside of prying ears and explained his moment. He asked him if he was ok and he touched his hand to his pant leg and showed him his bloodied hand to dot the exclamation point as he told him he didn't know. He was going to home and then the clinic. He drove home in silence as a rush of pain hit him and screamed loudly, almost embarrassed on the sound of pain.

 

I can't go on so I give in
Gotta get myself right outta here

Ah life….nothing seems to help clarify priorities as believing that you almost lost your life. Nothing gives one's mind more thought on their mortality like an injury that forces them to slow down. The injury would for him to stop all activities. His days will be filled with slow movement, bleeding, and well wishers wishing well wanted wishes. The later would only make him wonder if there was ceremony in the act of if people understood what was at stake. His inactivity would force him to sit longer than he wanted. His weight would increase by 30lbs and his lung capacity would shrink of that of a three pack a day smoker. There is very little recovery that can take place when one's body is torn open. There is not much to do than to constantly replace bandages, apply ointments and alcohol in a place where it is already awkward to reach and no friend should have their friendship to be tested in any form of assistance requiring a helping hand. A forced lesson in humility that will continue to haunt him and force him to question what value he has on others. Not many people would welcome a cripple to their circles much less someone who continues to mutter how he's broken for sure. Bleed while walking. Bleed while sitting. Bleed while sitting.

If I have my time again
I would do it all the same
Ain't change a single thing

There is very little entertainment when you are not able to move with great range or stay put for too long. There is plenty of time to entertain doubt, question actions and to wonder what choices would be changed. And in every path of thought it led to the question on his health. It seems that hypocritical action lead to painful ends. It was not as if he smoked, drank and screw constantly. In fact it was the opposite side of the coin. He didn't care. He stopped caring after a while. He stopped looking at what he ate or simply didn't. He would push his body through hours of exercise and would eat only when his hands shook. He took enough painkillers to make him functional and numb to the world. He fought sleep for the solitude of the early morning and drank enough caffeine to help his condition arrive at the peak. Almost forced to relive his infancy, he relearned to feel hunger and thirst. He took advantage of sleep and to begin carrying food. He studied every confusing article on food and nutrition until he found what caused his injury.

Now I'm fully grown
And I know where it's at
Somehow I stayed thin
While the other guys got fat

Healing took time and had many stumbling blocks. Relearning how to walk without a cane and sit without bleeding tasked is patience yet made him motivated. Watching those around him advance in many ways while feeling not only hindered, but derailed was another lesson in humility. Swallowing the remains of pride made him realize that he was not immune to death. A misplaced blood clot would have cost more than his mobility. He decided to accept it more as a challenge than as a sentence to mediocrity. His studies assisted him in understanding what he lacked and offered him the greatest reason to test out his postulates. He submerged in what is and removed what was unfounded. Kant would have been proud. His questioning of all things led him to question his own faith, allegiances, and errors. His mind cleared the frivolous and meaningless actions from his life and stressed the moments where he had to take the chance rather than worry on embarrassments or the thoughts of others. He cut out people who drained him, wasted his effort, and did not understand his words. He couldn't get through the moments where he thought his words failed him. He held himself at a higher purpose rather than simply slink away is apathy. He understood that wisdom lacked the innovation of intelligence while intelligence alone had no direction without wisdom.
In simplicity, he refused to die stupidly and without meaning.
He still held on to certain habits and thoughts as a child would hold on to its blanket in refusal to continue on to the next step of life. There would be mornings that would hold on to those close almost is refusal. Others he dissected and question them, placing himself in the position of an apologist, which he despised. He knew that apologizing for a mistake would lead to nothing if he did not correct the action rather than just apologize for it. Pride in one's action usually lead to a blinding ego, if he was wrong there was no shame in admitting it and moving on. He questioned himself, his family, his view of the world and what he was willing to speak out for. He found he was disgusted with stupidity and his inability to speak out more so. He understood how to think before he spoke to make sure that he was heard correctly and he discovered the meaning in simply speaking from the heart. He questioned his motives and actions and found himself impatient with a vein of violence that frightened him. He understood that was better to quit his patience on what would only lead to his anger. He found no shame in letting go what frustrated him and to admit that he didn't know or understand. He had to embrace that even though life had placed heavy responsibility on his shoulders, he was only responsible for his actions right or wrong. Taking that responsibility for his action opened his heart a bit wider. Knowing that it was better to cut actions that lead to the harm of others than to apologize for them and continue the action did not make him a good man. It connected him not only to humanity, but to all of life. His studies took on a new meaning and he began to understand how everything was himself and how he was in everything.
Is it possible to love others while hating one's existence?
He would still wrestle with this a few years longer.
In the end, it gave him hope and he left behind those thoughts. It changed him from a condemned man forced to redeem himself to a child of stardust and time. A manifestation of all life given a moment in time to exist before returned to the continuity of being part of everything else. His divinity was not something that was proclaimed over all others, but as a manifestation of all others. He would still have to understand the roots of his of self hatred and that the love of another lead to it. He would yet have to question the x factor between him and so many. How one act of love can cause so much trouble and hurt. It will be at four years longer before any of this will come to light, but he had one thing he didn't have before. He had hope in himself and understanding that if he too responsibility for his actions, right and wrong, he would not be an animal as many have called him, but as simply a human being attempting to make things right with what he has on hand.
But that is not now……

Broken hearts are hard to mend
I know I've had my share
But life just carries on
Even when I'm not there