Faded

I come to.

I can feel the poison in my head. My body quaking. I grab a cup of coffee. Spill most of it from the quakes. I quietly slide the corner of the curtain aside to see if my scooter is home. It isn’t. My cat stares at me in disgust. I look for my shoes find one. This explains the muddy sock. Scrape the puke off the top my RedWing and limp out the front door. No keys, no wallet, no bike, no shoe. I quietly try and shuffle by the managers apartment, no rent. Trying to hold back the tears from the abused brain and poison I ingested this time. Light stabbing my sockets. I turn my head and the nausea invites itself to the party. Nothing but endless dry heaves.

I fade out.

The EMT crushes his fat knuckle into my chest. “Hey Buddy, you okay? You with us? Hey…”
“What day is it?” I ask.
“Tuesday.”

I roll to the side and dry heave some more.  Tuesday? Four days gone. Where the hell have I been?

“Tough night?” He asks.
“Something like that.” I manage to mumble between heaves.
“There’s a lot of blood on you. Do you know what happened to you? You look like someone beat you with a baseball bat.”

Can’t breath, the heaves. I fade out.

The noise. Chest pain. “Breath you son of a bitch! Breath! Come on bud! Breath!” Flo exclaims. “Breath… there you go. In— out—in—out. Good boy. In, one, two, three. Out, three, two, one… I think we can put the defibrillator away.”

My chest hurts. My stomach aches. My brain is being stabbed with every heart beat. My body hurts everywhere. My eyes roll back and my body tenses. I start to fade out and I hear Flo yell, “Not again! Breath dammit, breath…breath you son of a bitch! Breath!” She punches my jaw and white pain explodes in my head.

I fade. Darker and darker it goes. The little spots of light, slowly leaves.
I mumble, “Scotch… dammit…scotch… never again.”
I fade deeper… deeper.
I hear Flo say, “He has no pulse again. Start CPR…”

Fade…

Faded

Who am I and where am I?

“The discipline of writing something down is the first step toward making it happen.” — Lee Iacocca

The question asked is “Who am I?” Well,  I’m a dad, a husband, and a biker. I’m a courier. I’m also a big fan of Dr Who and Seuss. I’m a loner. I drive all night and sleep all day.  I struggle with being an adult, husband and dad.

Where am I?  Puyallup Washington (pronounced pew-al-up). About 35 miles miles South of Seattle, right at the base of Mt Rainier. It’s a beautiful place to live.

It is my hope, and my discipline, that this blog will open my eyes to the wonders of writing about the world, my joys, struggles and progress in towards my goals

I looking forward to the challenge and discipline of writing. I look forward to the guidance and help from the blogging community.

Thank you!

Bryan B