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(Imported from my HTTP blog):
On the 7th of August, I had an appointment with one of my cardiologists. She told me that they wanted to do another procedure on me: a second cardiac ablation. This isn't a cure. It's a band-aid that can calm the ventricular tachycardia (VT), but they can't make it go away permanently because of the extensive scarring of my heart. I asked her if she could estimate my life expectancy, and she gave me an answer: perhaps ten years at most. It wasn't an answer I wanted, but it was an honest answer, and I appreciate her for not giving me any bullshit or blowing smoke up my ass. I went on to ask about end-of-life options. "Well, you can refuse treatment and we can deactivate your defibrillator." I think in that scenario, I'd at least have palliative care. And to be honest, it sounded really attractive at the time. It still does, in its own sort of way. I was left pondering a deep existential question. Why should I go on living? Why should I risk a good deal of potential future suffering for a chance at a few more years of life? Realize that I've already been through a very traumatic heart-related episode. I was shocked some 17 times in an hour by the device inside me.
I've always wanted to try psilocybin, I.E., magic mushrooms. I put out a few queries to see if anyone might know of a source. No one did. However, taking mushrooms is legal here in Oregon, if done at a licensed establishment under the care of a facilitator. There just happens to be such an establishment in my city. I called them up. "It'll be $1000 for a four hour trip with a dose of 18 to 25 mg of psilocybin." This is way out of my price range, but a dear friend offered to foot the bill. I set up an appointment with the Salem Psilocybin Center. I told them that I had an upcoming surgery and that I'd like to take psilocybin prior to it. They were great. They found an open slot for me on Saturday the 24th of August, nearly a week before my scheduled surgery.
First of all, there is a lot of paperwork to sign: consent forms and the like. Realize that even though I might be the smartest motherfucker in the room, I am still blind, and therefore functionally illiterate. They use DocuSign. I was kind of hopeful, because I've been told that DocuSign's accessibility has improved over the last few years. I tried unsuccessfully to sign all of the paperwork with multiple web browsers on desktop computers. Then I tried with the DocuSign app on two separate smartphones: my Android and my girlfriend's iPhone. I had the most success with the smartphone app, but at the end of both attempts, I was told to either draw my signature on the screen or upload a photo of my signature. Neither option is particularly workable without help. Realize that I live with two other blind people, so I cannot get help from my immediate circle. They sent someone over to help me fill out all of the paperwork, and I'm glad of it.
One of the things I had to sign was a transportation plan. And in fact, the center offers the option of picking up a patient and returning them to their house! Wonderful! I won't have to worry about how I'm going to get there. Someone came to fetch me on the morning of Saturday the 24th. I recall that one of the songs playing in his car was Truckin' by The Grateful Dead. It's a favorite. Then I hear the iconic lyric: "What a long ... strange trip it's been." I cackled and observed that it was very apropos.
When I got to the center, I met my facilitator. I was taken to a room with some very comfy sofas. Another person from the center came in with the dried mushrooms in a little disposable cardboard bowl. There were either 7 or 9 of them. I don't remember exactly how many. The other person and my facilitator watched as I consumed all of them. Apparently they need a second person to administer the dose, to make sure that there is no funny business. There was an almost ritualistic quality to the whole thing. I munched the mushrooms, which I found quite tasty. I'm a huge fan of culinary mushrooms, and these had a strong and earthy taste reminiscent of the mushrooms I love to consume for food. I remarked that when I was in college, I knew this woman named Alina who was a vegetarian, of Chinese descent, and who gave the best and most lyrical description of mushrooms that I have ever heard. She called them the meat of the Earth. I was also told the name of the mushroom strain I was taking: Shakti.
Once I had finished consuming the mushrooms, my facilitator helped me become better acquainted with the comfortable sofa. It was powered, with various settings! We found what was best for me: lying slightly reclined with a pillow for my head. I was also given a blanket. It was like being in a warm, cozy nest. The facilitator started some music playing. It was soothing and meditative. One might describe it as New-Agey kind of music.
I couldn't keep track of time, but at some point close to the start of my trip, I began to feel some effects. I'd describe them as euphoric. I could hear every note of the music in slow motion. I felt as though the sofa was melting into me, or I was melting into it. The same held for the music. It was part of me, and I was part of it. I've had similar experiences in drum circles and at some Pagan rituals in which I participated.
Some time after this, the dreams began. I call them dreams, because I can't think of a better term. I was dreaming wide awake. And I knew that I was in control as they played in my mind. I never lost touch with reality, not even once. I dreamed of people I had loved. I dreamed of places far away, of distant times and imaginary lands. People who know me know that I'm a fan of The Lord of the Rings. As I dreamed, I recalled a line from The Hobbit: "In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit." I found this line incongruously hilarious and amazing, for reasons I know not. I dreamed that I was such a hobbit, living in my cozy little hole under a hill. I fondly recalled a father figure, someone who read The Hobbit to me when I was a small child of perhaps seven years. He used to call me his little hobbit and refer to my room as my hobbit hole. I had other dreams of possible futures and possible pasts, all pleasant, some of which are much too personal to put down in writing. This dream sequence played for most of the rest of my trip.
I took a bathroom break about an hour before my trip was supposed to end. This helped guide me back to the here and now. Over the next hour, the dreams slowly dissipated into consciousness of the world around me. At the end, I was left feeling better than I've ever felt, or at least, the best I've felt in a long, long time. I had an amazing period of mental clarity, lasting several hours. This was when I started to gain some insights into my own problems and circumstances.
I found the answer to the existential question that I had been pondering for the past couple of weeks, the same question that had given me some encouragement to start down the psychedelic path. Yes, I have a death sentence, and yes, I have some idea of how much time is left on my clock. I also have an amazing gift. I can choose to keep on playing the game, or I can choose to refuse treatment, thereby bringing the end of the game nigh. I have free will. I control the gameboard and the piece. Fuck it; I may as well keep playing. At least for now. One day at a time. I am also very fortunate to have so many people in my life who love and care deeply for me.