Just Until It's Gone, Part 2

Just Until It's Gone
by karriejj@hotmail.com

Part 2

Graduation came and went. I found a job easily in my home town at one of the
local hospitals. My main interest was Trauma nursing so thats where I was
hired. I quickly earned a reputation for being an excellent nurse and tough
as nails, able to handle any of the goriest and toughest traumas. 

After 3 years, I had become the Charge Nurse for my shift, and was heavily
involved in management of the department and nursing staff. I also got
involved in the local nursing union and helped negotiate several contracts.
During it all, my smoking was never an issue or frowned upon. 

The stress of the hectic schedule I was keeping was beginning to take a toll
on me however. I never increased my smoking as I was comfortable with the
level I was at and my body didn't tell me differently. My social life was
barely alive however. I rarely dated and when I did it was usually some
co-worker. I didn't want to get a reputation as a slut at the hospital, so I
never slept with any of them. I was working on a 2 year dry spell from sex
and should have invested in Duracell, as my vibrators at home were getting a
very good workout.

Flash Forward to about a two weeks ago.

One evening during a late shift, a bad car accident occured and two teenagers
were brought in. The attending ER doctor took the more serious case along
with another ER nurse. He asked that I take the less serious case until he
could get the other stabilized. It was apparant my patient had a fractured
femur. I started an IV and injected a heavy dose of morphine into the drip.
As he calmed, I began cutting off his blood soaked jeans. As I pulled the
jeans off, I noticed a plastic baggie half stuffed into his underwear.

I pulled the bag out and from first glances, I knew it was marijuana, and a
pretty good amount as well. I turned to toss the baggie in a collection bin,
but just then the victim began choking and convulsing. Blood was coming from
his mouth as he coughed. Not even thinking, I called for the attending and
stuffed the baggie into my scrub pants and began working on the patient.

It turns out my patient had several broken ribs that had punctured his lungs,
and turned out to be the more serious of the two. At the end of my shift, I
was exhausted. Instead of showering and changing, I simply headed home. The
only thing that kept me awake on my drive home were two wonderful cigarettes.
The first brought my tired body back to life  and the second relaxed my numb
brain, allowing the stress to wash away.

I stumbled into my apartment just as the rest of the world was leaving for
work. I dropped my purse and bag on the kitchen table as I entered and weaved
back to the bedroom. I closed the drapes and stripped my scrubs from my tired
body and left them lay in a heap at the foot of my bed. I crawled under the
covers at 7:45 a.m. and slept soundly.

My body woke me around 2 p.m. It was craving more nicotine and I happily
crawled out of bed in response. I went to the bathroom and relieved myself ,
then picked up some shorts and a T-Shirt that lay on the floor and sleepily
put them on. I made my way to the kitchen and dug my cigarettes and lighter
out of my purse. I lit one and drew deeply as I made my way to the coffee
maker. I always smoked the first of the day quickly and this was no
exception. Smoke seemed to constantly flow from my body as I made the coffee
in ritualistic fashion: Empty filter from previous day, put in new filter,
fill with three scoops of coffee, fill carafe with 7 cups of water, pour into
back of coffee maker, turn switch, start reading paper and smoke second
cigarette of the day while waiting for Java!

While I was filling the carafe, I noticed a few drops of blood that I had
failed to wash off the previous night from the trauma. I then remembered my
scrubs that lay on the floor in my bedroom, and the blood splatters that
riddled the front of the shirt. I made my way back to my room and picked up
the soiled scrubs. As I did, the baggie of marijuana from the previous night
fell to the floor in front of me. 

I frowned as I remembered how it got there. I picked it up also and made my
way back to the kitchen.  I lay the baggie on the kitchen table and tossed
the scrubs into the garbage. After pouring a cup of hot coffee, I sat at the
kitchen table and began pondering my find. I took a final deep drag from my
cigarette and crushed it out in the ashtray. I sipped at my coffee with my
trademark "simultaneous sip and nose exhale" move. I then lay the cup down
and pulled the baggie closer for inspection.

Mind you, I'd never smoked pot before in my life, but had been around it in
college and high school. I just wasn't the 'type' I told myself. Good grades,
cheerleading, and getting high on life were more important to me at that
time. But now an opportunity lay before me and I had choices to make.

I split the zip lock seam with my hands and peered into the bag. Several (5,
maybe even 7) large buds lay in the baggie. The aroma made its way to my nose
and I immediately recognized the pungent, skunky smell. I brought the baggie
to my nose and sniffed deeper. I assumed this was good weed just by the smell
and looks of it. The buds were of course green, but had purple and red colors
mixed in as well. All of it seemed to be coated with a white crystalin resin,
the THC I assumed.

I began to get the same nervous and giddy feeling I had when I tried my first
cigarette. I reached for my pack and lit another one to help calm my nerves
and clear my head. I pushed the baggie away from me as I thought and pondered
my choices. 

It was as if I were suddenly in a cartoon, and a small angel and devil stood
on either side of my shoulder, whispering into my ears.  Angel: "You have
such a wonderful career... Dont jeopordize it on a whim... It'll lead to
harder drugs... Your nursing union does random testing... " And the devil
countered with: "You've wanted to try this for a long time but never allowed
yourself to experience the pleasure... What harm can a few tokes do... It
only stays in your system for a short time if you dont use it habitually, and
you can manipulate the tests, your a nurse for Christs sake... You're pretty
damn lonely right now and borderline depressed... Tell the angel to Fuck Off
and try a little bit..."

I drew deeply on my cigarette and let it dangle as I went to the cupboard. I
retrieved one of my white dinner plates and returned to the table. I guess I
had made up my mind.

I reached into the baggie and pulled out one of the buds and set it on the
plate. The smoke from my dangling cigarette was beginning to burn my eyes but
I continued to let it dangle, drawing and exhaling in a rythmic motion . I
began to slowly pick at the bud, separating the flower of the plant from the
hard stem and seeds. After a few minutes, I had successfully parted the bud
and now had a rather large pile of smokeable weed in front of me. The buds
were compacted a bit in the baggie and now the picked apart flower seemed
twice as large as the original bud.

I tapped my finger on the table nervously. How to smoke it, I pondered. Being
totally ignorant about the subject, I deduced the only way was to somehow
fill a cigarette with the weed and make a crude joint. I pulled a fresh
cigarette from my pack and broke the filter off. I then began to slowly roll
the cigarette back and forth in my fingers while gently squeezing, looseing
the tightly packed tobacco. After a few minutes of frustration with this, I
retrieved a pair of tweezers from my bathroom.

I started picking the tobacco out and in no time I had cleaned it all out,
leaving only the paper. Now I pondered how to fill it back up with my newly
discovered friend. I again went to the kitchen and retrieved a drinking
straw. I slid it into the cigarette paper and it slid in loosely. I then cut
most of the straw away, leaving only about the same length as the paper. I
began slowly stuffing the weed into the straw. I took a pen apart and used
the ink portion to lightly tap the weed into the bottom of the straw, being
careful not to pack it too tight.

My pile had only shrunk by less than a 1/4 in size and the straw was now full
and ready for the next step. I slid the stuffed straw into the paper once
again, leaving about an 1/8" from the bottom. I carefully twisted the bottom
of the paper around the bottom of the straw. Using the portion of the pen
from before, I then began to slowly push the weed from the straw into the
paper. As I pushed the paper slid off the straw, now full with the aromatic
weed. I had obviously  filled the straw to much and some of the extra weed
spilled out onto the plate. Using the pen once more, I tamped the remaineder
of the weed into the cigarette, making it tighter. When I was done, I twisted
the other end and took a minute to appreciate my handy work.

My mouth was dry and I was nervous as hell. I gulped the coffee which had
cooled considerablly now, and then reached for a fresh cigarette. I smoked my
cigarette very quickly as I gave myself some more time to reflect on what I
was about to do. As I did, I noticed that my left hand had creeped down under
my shorts and was slowly circling my clitoris. I was very wet and excited by
the whole situation. God I was torn. I tried to convince myself that surely
just this one time wasn't going to lead to any negative repurcusions.

Finally I justified it to myself. If I hated the sensation, I would of course
flush it all away and never do it again. I had just come off working four
ten hour shifts straight. I wasn't due to work again for 5 more days. I spoke
aloud as I carried the joint, ashtray, lighter, cigarettes, coffee and
tweezers to the couch in the living room. "Just until this joint is gone..."
I said.

End Part 2

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