Knackered is Homeward Bound with Benzos

   Hey there, Knackered here.  The traffic is moving at a snail’s pace.  The ambient temperature measures 93 degrees as waves of heat radiate off the pavement.  The Knackered vacation vehicle is heading home.

   Including the ferry ride and airport stop to drop off East Coast family, we have been on the road for nearly five hours.  Knackered is a mess, having left one of his medications at home.  The result has left him in a bad wave of cessation.  Of course it has.

   Beside him sits his faithful and supportive wife.  He moans quietly while she drives.  Normally, her patience is inexhaustible.  However, today she has little sympathy for for him, as she warned him repeatedly to double check his medications box before leaving home.  It his fault and he knows it.

   Stops are few, however Knackered has to go to the bathroom, again.  So we stop at a rest stop and then again for gas.  His nausea is bad, so he has a bit of that too. (The gas that is.)

   Vacation traffic is insane.  Why would anybody be out here under these conditions? But here we are.  It is what it is. Traveling on the freeway is not his friend.

   My wife has done nearly everything to get us in the car and set the departure in motion.  Knackered usually doesn’t drive a lot any more.  He has no idea how she keeps going.  All he can do is sit and moan.  He is really quite pathetic.

   Somehow, as we venture on, away through the larger cities, we expect the traffic to thin out.  It doesn’t.  We are bumper to bumper in the middle of nowhere.  Knackered waxes philosophical and wonders where all these people have come from?  Why are they here?  Where are they going?  He imagines many are on vacation.  He wonders if they’re happy and if they are having fun.  It is exhausting just thinking about it.  He decides not to.

  Sometime in the late afternoon, their exit finally appears.  My wife steers us into town and toward our neighborhood.  Our home has survived the holiday.  Normally there is debris from fireworks and trash from passers- by in the yard.  We live close to the hub of festivities.  Knackered is glad they were away.

   Climbing from the car, the temperature is intensive.  Knackered nearly bites the pavement.  His wife is quite dismayed that the weather has toasted her plants on the patio.  This was unexpected.  Who knew?

   Knackered goes inside to drink water and reinstate his forgotten meds. It will have to be slow one.  He has been off for nearly five days.  How could he have forgotten?  He blames it on confusion from Benzo withdrawal.  He’s certain that his wife feels otherwise.

  Soon, they go out again to pick up their dog at the care giver’s.  He is overjoyed to see us.  When he gets home, he drinks two bowls of water and collapses on the kitchen floor.

   There is little to eat in the cupboards or refrigerator.  It all went with us on the trip.   We are too wiped to go out.  Knackered fixes a simple meal of scrambled eggs and toast.  It is the least he can do.