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| As we journey through life, we continuously adjust ourselves: if we sit in one position too long, a signal from the buttock will be processed automatically and will emerge as the pattern of activity which shifts our position. An itch will evoke scratching. Dust in the nose may evoke a sneeze or a cough. We might fold our arms, or cross our legs, or shiver in response to a drop in ambient temperature, or toss our heads if hair falls over our eyes ... all the little motions and gestures that distinguish a living organism from a statue.
A dose of (say) cocaine or heroin will immediately anaesthetise the periphery (senses) by blocking the flow of signals in the nerves. There is an immediate reduction of input to the brain, which is suddenly relieved of the burden of moment-to-moment regulatory activity. This is the 'flash' and lasts only for a few seconds, until the anaesthetic penetrates to the brain and numbs it. There follows a period (which varies in length according to the choice of narcotic) when the entire organism is numb. The numbness is not recognised as such, because one cannot 'feel' numb: numbness is ABSENCE of feeling and among the things to which one is numb is the very fact of the numbness itself. Subjectively, the feeling is as if one is wrapped in warm cotton wool. There is no discomfort, and no moment-to-moment regulatory activity occurs. In this dangerously insensitive state, a person can slump for hours in an awkward and uncomfortable posture, unable and unwilling to do what is necessary to correct and regulate the system. A room containing numb people looks odd, rather as though life-size dummies have been strewn carelessly around in unlife-like postures, because the animation of living beings is absent. No-one makes the continuous gestures and movements which signify life ... After all, we are made of the same kinds of molecules and atoms of nitrogen, oxygen, hydrogen etc as the ground on which we walk or the furniture upon which we sit. In a living organism, however, these inanimate molecules and atoms have organised themselves to be sensitive and aware, to be conscious: a numb person is intrinsically no different from the insensitive chair upon which he slumps! Come the dawn, comes the reckoning. When the anaesthetic wears off, that is to say it is metabolised (broken down by the liver) the thawing senses at the periphery start to send frantic signals for regulation to the centre, the brain, which is still frozen ... this is the 'come-down' ... during the period of numbness, all the interlocking systems have drifted out of kilter, and now everything needs adjustment ... the thawing organism shifts-scratches-writhes-sneezes-stretches like a speeded-up movie of himself, and not until the entire backlog of regulatory activity and every last itch has been caught up with is the subject back again where he was when he resorted to the narcotic (anaesthetic) in the first place. The feeling of malaise due to the stacked-up backlog of scratch-shift-sneeze-writhe is too far removed in time to be associated with the narcotic, and of course, if more anaesthetic is available, the temptation to resort to it will be overwhelming, and more and more anaesthetic is required to stave off the awakening for shorter and shorter periods of time: a process as futile as trying to dig one's way out of a hole! When anaesthetic is used to ameliorate the discomfort resulting from use of anaesthetic, a positive feedback loop is established; a vicious circle known as addiction. |
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