This message serves as a word of warning to, what I imagine are the very select few, people who are as reckless as I was with their drugs on this otherwise responsible forum.
I liked to think of myself as a connoisseur of stimulants, on one particularly wild party ingesting 15 psychoactive substances in the space of 24 hours with no noticable repurcussions, but it seems fate had something else in store for me. I have always been interested in the new legal chemicals bombarding the internet these days and after careful research (or so I thought) decided to buy two capsules of 6-apb, which I would ingest on new years eve. The night arrived and I was in attendance of a warehouse rave in Bristol, where I took the first capsule about 20 minutes before getting there and the second capsule after around 30 minutes of being on the dancefloor. Before long I joined my friends in an upper floor where I insuffulated a 250mg line of MDMA, this being a rather standard dose for me. This is my last memory of the night, the rest is a complete blank. The rest of the story is from other people's accounts.
My friends found me unconscious outside at 8am, completely pale and barely breathing. An ambulance was called and I arrived at Bristol hospital soon after, after severe fits which no amount of diazepam seemed to solve. I was said to be the worst drug-related case the hospital had ever seen, and there was nothing they could do to save me, aside from prolonging my inevitable death. They made frequent phonecalls for medical adviceto the Queen Elizabeth hospital in Birgminham, where they eventually sent me via ambulance, fearing i would not survive the journey. I spent the month of January in a coma. I was leaking blood from every orrifice and they had to use a clotting agent to thicken the blood, this threatened to cause a clot in my brain and kill me, the alternative was bleeding to death. I had a total of around 20 tubes running into my body keeping me alive. A brain scan conducted while I was unconscious reveiled no electrical activity in my brain, meaning I would awake in a persistent vegatative state. My liver was effectively destroyed and I went to the top of the donor list for the UK, meaning that if I didn't receive a liver in the next day or so, I would die. Instead of re-assuring my parents, the doctors and surgeons essentially told them to give up hope. They estimated my survival at 2%
I awoke in february in a state of near-paralysis, unable to move or speak because of my tracheotomy. This lasted a few weeks as I was kept in the intensive care unit, being told that my kidneys had failed and that if they did not start working againi I would have to undergo 5 hours of daily dialysis. My body had been completely stripped of all muscle and fat storages, leaving me just skin and bone. My father remarked that I looked like an Auschwitz victim, except worse because they were able to shuffle around whereas I was completely unable to stand up, the first time I tried being complete agony and my legs collapsed from under me. I then gradually became more mobile due to daily physiotherapy, eventually moving up to a standard ward, on the last week I was able to walk slowly and with a great deal of effort around the ward with the aid and support of my parents. I was discharged in late Febuary and recquired a large amount of support to conduct even the simplest tasks. I am glad to say that now, after this ordeal and aside from loss of balance, significant muscle weakness, and minor permanent brain damage due to oxygen deprivation, I am essentially back to normal. Aside from several disfiguring scars and never being able to take drugs or drink alcohol again, of course
I hope some of you will learn from my reckless mistake. Forgive me for any spelling mistakes, my hand's dexterity was also effected.
I liked to think of myself as a connoisseur of stimulants, on one particularly wild party ingesting 15 psychoactive substances in the space of 24 hours with no noticable repurcussions, but it seems fate had something else in store for me. I have always been interested in the new legal chemicals bombarding the internet these days and after careful research (or so I thought) decided to buy two capsules of 6-apb, which I would ingest on new years eve. The night arrived and I was in attendance of a warehouse rave in Bristol, where I took the first capsule about 20 minutes before getting there and the second capsule after around 30 minutes of being on the dancefloor. Before long I joined my friends in an upper floor where I insuffulated a 250mg line of MDMA, this being a rather standard dose for me. This is my last memory of the night, the rest is a complete blank. The rest of the story is from other people's accounts.
My friends found me unconscious outside at 8am, completely pale and barely breathing. An ambulance was called and I arrived at Bristol hospital soon after, after severe fits which no amount of diazepam seemed to solve. I was said to be the worst drug-related case the hospital had ever seen, and there was nothing they could do to save me, aside from prolonging my inevitable death. They made frequent phonecalls for medical adviceto the Queen Elizabeth hospital in Birgminham, where they eventually sent me via ambulance, fearing i would not survive the journey. I spent the month of January in a coma. I was leaking blood from every orrifice and they had to use a clotting agent to thicken the blood, this threatened to cause a clot in my brain and kill me, the alternative was bleeding to death. I had a total of around 20 tubes running into my body keeping me alive. A brain scan conducted while I was unconscious reveiled no electrical activity in my brain, meaning I would awake in a persistent vegatative state. My liver was effectively destroyed and I went to the top of the donor list for the UK, meaning that if I didn't receive a liver in the next day or so, I would die. Instead of re-assuring my parents, the doctors and surgeons essentially told them to give up hope. They estimated my survival at 2%
I awoke in february in a state of near-paralysis, unable to move or speak because of my tracheotomy. This lasted a few weeks as I was kept in the intensive care unit, being told that my kidneys had failed and that if they did not start working againi I would have to undergo 5 hours of daily dialysis. My body had been completely stripped of all muscle and fat storages, leaving me just skin and bone. My father remarked that I looked like an Auschwitz victim, except worse because they were able to shuffle around whereas I was completely unable to stand up, the first time I tried being complete agony and my legs collapsed from under me. I then gradually became more mobile due to daily physiotherapy, eventually moving up to a standard ward, on the last week I was able to walk slowly and with a great deal of effort around the ward with the aid and support of my parents. I was discharged in late Febuary and recquired a large amount of support to conduct even the simplest tasks. I am glad to say that now, after this ordeal and aside from loss of balance, significant muscle weakness, and minor permanent brain damage due to oxygen deprivation, I am essentially back to normal. Aside from several disfiguring scars and never being able to take drugs or drink alcohol again, of course
I hope some of you will learn from my reckless mistake. Forgive me for any spelling mistakes, my hand's dexterity was also effected.
![:\](https://bluelight.org/xf/BL_Images/Orig_Emoji/wrygrin.gif "wry grin :\")
