The Wilderness Years - Hazardous Chemicals Pt. 4

Those moments of clarity, beautiful things they are, of course the problem is they are only moments but in that moment if the seed can be sown maybe, just maybe, one can use the old noggin' and not end up a corpse, it's a crap shoot to say the least but on that day i had learned my lesson, so help me Jah, i was done with that shit... at least for that day... and so i got on with the "normal" regimen of drug and alcohol abuse, nothing out of the ordinary, i stayed away from the gear but i still had a couple of little rocks sitting in a drawer, sometimes it seemed they called my name but then that little seed had begun to sprout and i'd stop, leave it alone i'd think, of course all it took was a split second and i'd be pissing on that sprout and putting pipe to lips and feeling like Jesus' son for a few seconds every exhale, oh that fucking gorgeous rush, that avalanche of pure bliss...

And so one afternoon i got off work and trudged up the steps and back towards my room, it was a typical gray North Oakland afternoon, i pulled out the bag and took a hit, to both my relief and anger the hit was weak, i took another and then another but soon it was gone, the last batch i had made and it was a dud, i got a little high but not like i was craving, of course soon after i was getting paranoid that i might keel the fuck over, spent the rest of the afternoon checking my pulse until finally deciding to go full booze hound and hit the bar for some Scotch and beer, a few slices of pizza as nourishment, back home and in bed before midnight no worse for wear... a typical day for this lad...

The next morning i shook the cobwebs out of the head, dressed and walked to the two blocks to work, stopping first at the mini-mart for my usual cup of coffee, bottle of orange juice, and a doughnut, the typical breakfast of the young lumpen-prole warehouse grunt, nothing seemed amiss, all systems go, surprisingly i wasn't even hungover. I had put in a good shift at the bar but in a fleeting moment of responsibility i waved off the last round and headed home to get some sleep... the previous day's gray had soaked through to this one and there was a morning delivery out to the North Hills, an easy and time consuming run, a good way to burn through over half the morning and so i was quite glad when the coin flip to see who would make the run went my way...

The delivery was a walk in the park and i spent some time flirting with a mousy haired, flat-chested hippie chick who worked there, by the time i got back to the warehouse it'd be an hour until lunch and then it was all downhill to the party... so in the van i hopped and off i drove, it was somewhere near the old Civic Arena when it started, this pressure rising in my chest, let's just say the paranoia started then too, at first it wasn't so bad but as i kept driving, ironically on that busy road that ran right past Hippie Jack's, it felt like i couldn't breath, i checked my pulse and it was racing for a guy who was sitting in a van, the mind didn't help either, suddenly i began to think that i may have dodged the bullet at Jack's but somehow, somewhere someone got off another round and this time i was fucked, i took quick breathes and cracked the window to let in some cold air, i began to think about dying alone in a work van at 26, just my fuckin' luck, i hadn't even began the masterpiece yet...

I made it back to the warehouse and found my manager, he took one look at me and asked if i was okay, no i said, i think somethings wrong, i told him i couldn't catch my breath and how all this pressure was in my chest, i told him i thought i should go to the hospital, he asked if i wanted a ride, i said i think i should walk... now here i was thinking my fucking heart was gonna explode yet thinking it was a good idea to walk to the fucking emergency room, how could the world not recognize my genius? so I  began putting one foot in front the other and attempting deep breathes and off i trudged to the ER that was right up the street all the while my heart racing and pressure building in my chest and the sunless sky and cold wind and i'm sweating and wondering if this might be my last day on Earth and the last thing i ate was a sugar doughnut...

There is this wonderful gauge to tell just how much of a train wreck one is, the clue can be found in the faces of various medical staff taking care of you, the smiles and smirks and jokes, you see once inside the ER i was shown to a room pretty quick like because of my state, they shaved a few patches of hair off my chest and hooked me up to and EKG.  I can attest that one of the worst things a hospital can do is hook up a freaked out wastoid to an EKG machine so he can hear the buzzers and bells thus making his heart race even more, the nurse gave me a motherly smile and told me to relax and that the doctor would be in shortly, i was left alone and had i not been so freaked out i would have probably been questioning my insurance coverage, thinking it wasn't that good so if i kicked it while the nurse was out no big deal, needless to say i sat there burping and breathing and trying to relax and then the doctor came in...

He was the usual scruffy intern type just not as handsome as the ones who do his job on television, he listened and nodded and stared up towards the ceiling, he pressed on my belly and nodded some more before taking the stethoscope out of his ears and announcing to all within earshot that i was going to live, at least for the time being he said and then he began to quiz me on my diet, asking me what i had eaten and what i ate, asked me how much booze i drank and what type, ignored the drugs i had copped to ingesting in the last few days and proceeded to tell me that if i wanted to end up back in this ER but in a lot worse shape that i had better get my shit together a little bit.  After explaining to him that my nightly meal often consisted of booze and weed and anything that could be bought at the bar or on the walk home or what one might call "food" in the loosest of terms, my breakfast was not much better, usually a coffee, a bottle of orange acid aka orange juice, a doughnut or sausage roll depending on the level of hangover and lunch whichever fast food place i thought wouldn't make me shit myself, there was the diet of a North Oakland Player, who said i wasn't living high on the hog?

The doctor sat back and soaked this all in and both he and the motherly nurse who had gotten me set up in this room (and shaved my chest) stood there with the slightest of smirks, the doctor then explained that my fake heart attack was really my stomach rebelling at all the shit i had done to it, creating a burbling brew of gas and acid that pushed up and mimicked a heart attack, he then ordered something to be brought in and told me that there was this stuff called fiber and these things called vegetables and that i should start eating the damn things, i nodded thoughtfully barely hearing a word but thinking more about the fact that i was gonna fucking LIVE! sure i'd work on the whole eating healthy thing but i wasn't gonna fucking die!! at least not today, shit i'd even be home early cuz fuck going back to work i needed a nap after all this excitement... the nurse brought me my paper cup of green liquid and i slugged it down and within 10 minutes i was feeling like my old self again, within half hour  i was back in the gray afternoon and walking back towards my apartment, the city air filling my lungs, i made a quick stop at the warehouse to tell the boss i'd be in tomorrow and off i went, my mattress on the floor never felt so fucking good...

Lying there in the gray afternoon, the radio playing, my room a warm cocoon, i drank some water and plotted a trip to the supermarket, i thought about the ER staff and the good laugh they were having at the tall, scruffy guy who was attempting to burn a hole in his stomach, i wondered if they were placing bets on when they'd see me again, i told myself they wouldn't and swore of the gear for good, discipline man i thought to myself, and yes it would be the last time i'd smoke that shit, i got up and ripped a binger,  it was time to get in a well earned sleep in before getting back to the business at hand... and get back to it i would...