Ketamine Session 5 - Enter CHIARI
K:5 safe
Safety. I feel safe. I seldom feel truly safe. Even here I had to talk myself into it. The first two times I craned my neck to see the blood pressure readings every time the cuff tightened around my arm, as if to confirm I was still alive. Sometime during the second trip I realized I was safe, and I haven’t checked it since. If there was a problem, he would come.
Today there is a problem.
I have head pressure built up from COVID. It happens near the beginning, soon after I’ve been hooked up. If it happened later, after I left my body, I’m not sure how it would’ve gone down. Since it’s early and I’m still aware of my limbs, I carefully reach for the water bottle on the table beside me. The needle in my wrist prevents me from getting that far. I cough, see stars—either from the chiari or the ketamine—and fight to calm down. Fucking chiari. Not now. NOT HERE. The pain radiates from the base of my skull, up and up, around, I’m consumed. I curse it as I lay there in agony, and the voice of a sweet British lady chirps, “Don’t be silly. You’re chiari-free.” Lies. The greatest wish. I don’t know. Finally, the door opens—I’m still in the room enough to see him standing in the shaft of light. I asked him to hand me my water. He does, and it takes care of my throat. He is concerned, I can tell by his voice, but I tell him I’ll explain when I’m done. I don’t have the capacity to get into “chiari malformations” when I’m teetering on the edge of tripping, and I don’t want to waste the ketamine that is now slowly circulating through my body. He leaves and I seek out the hooks on the wall for confirmation that this time will be like the others.
It is. And it isn’t. I’m angry because I’m in pain. Pain has no place here. This is where I’m supposed to be free.
After a while, the room changes. We’re in a different room today—an actual different room. Same as the one I’ve been in until today in almost every way, but reversed. I’m inclined to be upset about that but then I wonder where I will travel in this new space and it’s OK.
Turns out, I’m going to the beach. The light is a skylight, letting in bright tropical air, and sunshine fills the room. I don’t see the ocean, but I feel the buoyancy of being somewhere warm with an ocean breeze. My body travels. I feel it flying through the air. I keep still because I don’t know what will happen when I move. I might think I’m moving my hand but it might be a foot, or something else. I’m not connected to my body, and I have to make sure my wrist doesn’t disconnect from the travel juice.
I’m turning upside down. I’m inside a beach ball. The walls are clear so I can see the beach spinning around me. I’m not alone in the beach ball, but I don’t know who is with me. We’re all happy and we’re all spinning. It’s strange and beautiful. The best vacation.