Bleeding the Chicken or Why I'll Never Do Heroine

They tapped me today. I was naked, scared, shivering from fear. I had support but even He couldn't stop the inevitable stabbing and sucking and ripping of a piece of my soul.

I went to get a physical today. Pretty stratightforward: blood pressure, reflexes, eyes, ears, swallowing (?). I showed Dr. Martin my excema, he said yep. I conjured a harrowing tale of fire fighters busting into the building next door to discover that the building was seeped in carbon monoxide and I sure had a headache the other day and shouldn't we do a blood gas to be sure?

He asked of my parents ailments. I spoke of the colonoscopy and angioplasty and granpa's five heart attacks. He took my blood pressure. It was excellent. He's just trying to distract me from the horror film that starts in five.

There were no pictures on which I could gaze. My attention lept around the room hoping to land on something soothing. Left alone to get naked, I paced the cage, found an almost full biohazard can of bloody tubing and syringes. Oh God, Oh God should I be breathing this? Will mine go in there with all those other anonymous goos and Oh God, will a piece of my soul be tangled forever with Fred the Delivery Guy who raped his fourth grade teacher!

Calm it down Chicken Head, don't loose it.

Breathe.
In.
Out.
Okay, that's bullshit. Where else can the eyes go to find distraction?

These black ice cream cone things are interesting...no they're not! Oh God.

No, no, look there's lube. That's funny. Lube. Right next to the latex gloves. Latex...some people are allergic to latex, like really bad allergic. Don't they use the alternati...knock on the door.

Oh God.

New nurse. Haven't seen this one. She has that look. That look says I heard you're a big baby and I'm here to treat you like the nursery citizen you are. Oh, don't give me that look lady. I'll just kick things around in here and really show you how it's done.
I chirp out, "my support system!"
"Your what?"
"He's in the chair out there!"

She walks out slamming the door. She didn't mean it but it reminded me of doing bad before in my life and triggered the ole pain body that was so near the surface anyway. Pain body. Sounds oddly sexual in a German, red light way.

Support walks in with look on face too. That's okay. He means well but I can't look directly into the look or my head will spontaneously pop off my shoulders.

Last thing said to doc before Nurse with Face came in, "let's just do this and not talk about it!" Doc, if I was rude, I'm sorry. I chuckled it off to trying to make it seem quirky and cool rather than obnoxious and freaked out.

So Support lays on the babying and I begin to violently shake. Stomach is whirring. Can't focus on anything in the room. Memories are burning. Time is bending. Space is shifting. Is this what dying feels like?

Lie down! Nurse with Face barks politely in fear that she'll have another dropper.

Yeah, that sounds good. Lying down is always better than I don't know jumping jacks, karate kicks, barrel rolling.

(Breath quickening as I relay.)

Support comes around to the head. Nurse with Face touches me!!! Ok, that's it! This is over!!! I'm out.

She coos out, I'm just touching you, there's nothing in my hand. Coo, coo.

Smell hightened, sight begins to go. Or maybe the eyes are closed. Can't think long enough to solve.

Nurse with Face opens drawers, closes drawers. She fixing the fix. Oh God!

She touches me again!!!

FEELING MASSIVELY SICK. MAY NEED TO BRING FLUID QUICKLY ONTO NURSE WITH FACE!

Oh God. Oh God.

(What did all this sound like outside the door? Cut to outside the door, muffled winnying.)

Okay, she says, just cleaning. She's touching me! My God people, she's touching me! Just cleaning.

TAKE A DEEP BREATH SHE SAYS! Pump your fist. I'll show her fist pumping.

And then something cold and painful bit me. And my toes began to collapse in on themselves. I click my feet together frantically. Now I look back and how Dorothy of me! I notice the feet slamming together. It's psychotic. I'm near to scream. Stiffling scream.

BREATHE OUT! I let go of breath.
DEEP BREATH! I suck in a small one not yet finished with the last.

Is this for real...there it goes, the soul is for sure running out my arm and my toes are desperately trying to get it to stay. It's a tug of war between the angry piercing thing and my toes. Toes pulling it back, piercing thing pulling it out. Back, out, back out, back out back out!!! I'm backing out!

Ok, we're done.