Knackered Has an Anniversary with Benzos

   Hey there, Knackered here.  On the 23rd of this month Knackered will take note of a certain day that’s changed his life forever.  It will be.  The third year.  Of his descent. Into the flaming hellaciousness of Benzo withdrawal. 

   The impetus to all of this occurred quite naturally. His previous provider had just retired and he’d been reassigned to an unknown.  

   At his first appointment, they had barely finished introductions and sat down before it was noted that Knackered had been taking Benzodiazepines for thirty years and needed to stop quickly before he started losing parts of himself and his brain exploded, or some such.

   With such a prognosis came the urgency to accomplish the process at a rapidly descending rate.  Unbeknownst to Knackered, the man had little in the way of expertise and far less in terms of empathy.  His patient ‘pain and suffering scale’ extended beyond the teens.  Compassion and bedside manner were, apparently courses that were not offered at the colleges he attended.  

   Of course, Knackered knew none of this and resigned himself to over two years in the throes of death. On his second anniversary, Knackered bid him (the provider)  farewell and left the appointment.  

   After trashing his medical file, he was forwarded to a competent,  liberal, gentleman who Knackered was pleased to stay with, but was saddened by his departure four months into the process.  He’d still like to think that he (Knackered) had no effect upon his exit.  

    Thereafter, he maintained his prescriptions by begging, complimenting and cajoling the receptionists to take pity upon him and secure new trips to the pharmacy. They kept him supplied by prevailing on locums, subs, and unsuspecting NP’s who came and went.  Along the way, he was labeled as a noncompliant patient, accused of Dr shopping and drug seeking.  

   Finally, managing to acquire the services of a young and unsuspecting practitioner, he learned to use a scale to micro taper and is, hopefully on track to finish the marathon.  

   Amidst the ongoing pain, head pressure, nausea, air hunger, neuropathy, etc. some good things have emerged from the suffering.  

   Out of necessity, Knackered has become somewhat of a self sustaining individual. With no chance of the diminishment of physical discomfort,  he has looked inward to find that of himself that endures. The essence of all things lurks hidden within.  

   Finding that ‘self’ that lives on despite the disintegration of the body has required work, hours of meditation, additional study and the tedious practice of mindfulness.  It’s not something that he came across in an article read in the waiting room.  Yet the ongoing realization of it’s presence, separate, yet encompassing the whole has become a reality.  

   Apparently, none of this is new information.  His tutors are as old and ancient as the Hindu mystics, and as contemporary as quantum physicists and theorists of string theory.  Knackered has embraced them all to find a pathway through the maze of never ending insults to his physical ‘vehicle’; that part of him that holds the tentacles of his nervous system.  

   He realizes that he’s come miles, but has yet to scratch the surface of what it all means. All he knows is that it provides a path through suffering.  He still has miles to go before he can reach the goal, but is confident that he’ll still be standing at the finish line.  Will the suffering end when the tapering’s done? He really doubts it and by this point doesn’t even care.  He just hopes there won’t be another anniversary next year.