Muzda Jonxx
Bluelighter
Drugs - Subutex (24mg), valium (400mg+), 6-APB (2.5g), unknown RC (5g+), Haliperidol (unknown dose)
Experience - VERY Experienced
Hi all,
This is the first time I have ever attempted or dared to write up the following. This is a 100% true story from start to finish, and chronicles the trainwreck that turned me from research chemicals (RC empathogens in particular). All this happened to me 10 years ago, and I went through years of pain, heartache and therapy to get to where I am today, which is straight, sober and happy again with life.
Day 1 (Wednesday)
This was the bender to end all benders. My wife and I had been having a terrible time, both of us hooked on one chemical or the other whilst attempting to lead a normal life. Things had come to a head, and she'd packed off with the kids somewhere, leaving me on my own in the house to sort out my shit and get the hell out.
As you can imagine, a traumatic time for anyone. I was very well versed in obtaining drugs from the Internet. This was back in the good old days when all you needed to do was a quick search through Topix, and you could have whatever illicit you wanted. That year, I'd come off of a big oxy habit, and was at the time on 8mg subutex a day. I'd also got myself hooked on valium, eating between 50-100mg a day.
Well, the subs and vallys, whilst perfectly pleasant, just couldn't touch the depression I felt. So - that first day they left - I got researching on the RC sites. There was a new drug, 6-APB, that was apparently a great psychedelic alternative to MDMA. I ordered a gram, special order.
Day 2 (Thursday)
The 6-APB arrived. I worked throughout the day, popping vallies as I usually did until the evening came. As soon as I finished work, down the hatch with the 6-APB. I had the most amazing night, there on my own. I was so, soooooo euphoric, all the stresses and strains of life just melted away. Beautiful cosmic rainbows of infinitely intense colour filled my living room, this was quite a drug! I got on the Internet and found an RC shop that could get me another 2g 6-APB by the next day. Needless to say, I ordered it right up.
Day 3 (Friday)
I left the house because my family were coming back and I needed to be gone. I had no real plan, save to get to my office with my suitcase. I got there, and happily a few hours later the APB was delivered to my desk (got to love special delivery RC's straight to work). I munched down 250mg to keep me going through work, knowing that it wouldn't impact me as much as the night before. I also had my 8mg subs, and a massive bag of valium (500 x 10mg blues) to keep me going.
The work day ended, and my colleagues left. They knew my family situation, and the plan was to kip on the office floor so I could sort out accommodation over the weekend. I worked in a very high pressure environment, and had often slept in the office before, so this was no problem. As soon as everyone had left, I took 750mg 6-APB. During the day I'd found a site that was willing to sell me 10g for £100. In my inebriated state, the alarm bells at this low price had not rung out. How I wish they had. I came up on the APB, and night set in. I remember going on a mad stomp through Cambridge, photographing the weird trippy stuff I saw. I have those photos to this day, some of them are actually really good! I have a hard time looking at them though.
As the night progressed, I ate the remaining gram of APB, and got completely and royally fucked right up. I had a GREAT night, once again my problems were far, far away, and I could hide in my hallucinatory, serotonin soaked state.
Day 4 (Saturday)
Today, the 10g of so-called 6-APB got delivered to me. I immediately dose up to keep on truckin', because I haven't slept in over 48 hours now. That day was relatively normal. My father came to town because he'd heard what had happened, we went out and had a lovely Chinese meal. I'm very good at appearing sober when absolutely fucked, it was no trouble. The subutex and valium helped lots too.
My dad went homeward mid afternoon, and I headed back to the office. I was bored and in the mood for more fun, so had a look and found there was a badass drum & bass night on that night in town. I was constantly nibbling away at the 10g bag of so-called APB, noticing that it wasn't having the same effect as the stuff I'd taken prior. This I put down to it being the 3rd night on the trot.
I went to the drum and bass night, and partied my ASS off. I was stimulated beyond belief, but noticed there was no trippiness to whatever I was now taking. I thought nothing of it though, and kept right on going.
Day 5 (Sunday)
At 7 in the morning, the drum and bass night ended. After a lovely chat with some beautiful raver ladies, I caught a taxi back to the office. It was then I got the first pang of anxiety that perhaps this bizarre new lifestyle I'd adopted could not be maintained. I hadn't even thought about getting accommodation or anything sensible like that, I was far too occupied with getting fucked up and having fun.
At lunch time, my mate came and picked me up, and took me to the same restaurant I'd been to on Saturday. At some point throughout this meeting, I got very, very confused, and could not find my keys. I was convinced I'd lost them. I told my mate - Never mind, I'm heading into town, and off into town I went.
When I reached town, all of a sudden everything changed on me. I'd been so calm, so serene, so IN CONTROL (or so I thought). Suddenly all I felt was fear and paranoia. I went to a pub to have a calming beer. And that's when things started to get ugly.
I got my beer, took it out the back. In those days I smoked rollups, and fancied one. I noticed my hands were shaking so badly there was no way I could possibly make the cigarette. We're talking proper full on massive shaking, everyone else could see it too. I asked someone to make me a cigarette, they obliged, then I got the hell out of there. Walking along the pavement, I felt my whole perspective change, as if the world got squashed horizontally. Everything became very thin and very tall. I distinctly remember a man grabbing me by the shoulders, looking deep into my eyes and simply saying "GO HOME" in a booming deep voice. In retrospect, I'm not convinced that this actually happened.
So I beat a hasty retreat back to the office, took some more stimulants and a LOT of valium. Within the hour I felt much better, and much more in control again. It was early Sunday evening by this point, and I needed to get my stuff out of the office. Unfortunately, this would never happen. I spoke to my parents on the phone which was nice, then booked myself into a local hotel. And that's the point that shit really got fucked up.
Paranoia gripped me more intensely than it ever had. It was about 9pm by this point. The rest of this report I can't really name times, but it all happened through the course of Sunday night and the following Wednesday.
I was SURE that people in a car were coming to get me. Convinced of it. How could they put up with me being here, in this office? It was simply unacceptable. They were certainly on their way. I didn't know who these people would be, but I knew they meant business. Every time I heard a car pass outside, my heart filled with dread. I decided to hide under a desk so that they couldn't see me.
But.. OH FUCK! The valium. Oh. Fuck. And the APB! Shit! I've got to hide it all. Just - take some then hide it. This I did, I hid it all somewhere in the server room of my office.
A moment of clarity.. People coming to the office? Why would they do that? Noone knew I was there. Ok, on Friday night a walk sorted me out, I'll go for a walk again.
So, I went for a walk. I remember getting to a darkened walkway away from the road. There was a guy in a hoodie rolling along the ground. I went over to talk to him. When I got to him, I asked a question. Instead of replying, he disappeared in a whispy puff of black smoke. This didn't strike me as strange at the time though. I simply sat down on the path. I knew I was waiting for a girl and a guy. The girl turned up and sat with me, but the guy was nowhere to be seen. I looked round to find out the girl was actually a white plastic bag that was tangled in a bush.
At this point, BANG!! Another attack of mad irrational paranoia. I was CONVINCED the police were chasing me, so I better run. So I ran, oh how I ran. I could hear the policemen closing in behind me. They grabbed me by the legs and bang, I headbutted asphalt (this actually happened, but in reality I just sprinted away from nothing, tripped over my own feet and smashed my face into the road). I got up from the policemen, and I ran, ran ran ran raaaaaaaaaan like the wind. Got caught by them a few more times and smashed myself up, but I got away every time (fairly obviously, there was noone actually there).
I remember trying to flag cars down to pick me up and take me away from the danger. I was waiting for the ambulance to arrive. But every single set of headlights that I saw just drove straight on by. I cannot describe the desperation and anguish I felt.
After a certain amount of time, the psychosis switched gears on me again and I calmed. I had a massive pain in my side, but there were more important things to worry about. I decided to head back to the office.
At the office (which was a big complex of small offices) I could no longer remember which office was mine. So, I wandered the corridors. I found a locked room, and saw two of my friends inside. They seemed distressed. There was this cleaner guy came round the corner, and I asked him if he had the key so I could rescue my friends (worryingly enough, I think the poor cleaner guy was in fact actually real). He looked a bit scared, extremely confused and hurried away from me pretty quick.
All of a sudden, I'm back in the office. Then I'm outside. There's valium all over the ground. Fucking valium EVERYWHERE! Except every time I picked one up, it turned out not to be valium, but a stone, piece of paper, or nothing at all. I wondered around for a considerable time picking up valium that didn't exist.
Then, I'm back in the office. The paranoia grew stronger. Daylight was creeping in by this point. I remember looking in the mirror and I was covered in blood from where I'd faceplanted after being 'attacked' by the policemen earlier in the night. The paranoia grew stronger still. I could see the woman and men that were coming for me. They wanted the valium. I could hear the car approaching.
So again, I ran like the wind, grabbing the valium and APB bags as I did so (thankfully I actually did this, because otherwise my colleagues would have found said bags sooner or later). I ran out of the office, and ran with all my might to get away from the woman and men that were chasing me. I threw the drugs away, and kept on running. I smashed my phone to pieces so they couldn't figure out who my friends were.
Sooner or later (this part is hazy) I end up back at the office. It was fully daylight now, people would be getting to work soon. And that's when I heard the helicopter. I saw the terrorists descending on ropes, running along the walkways. I saw their massive machineguns, and knew who they had come for.
I phoned down to the reception at this point, mindlessly garbling about how terrorists were taking over my office and to get up here NOW!!!
And so they did. As soon as I saw the dread on their faces, it vaguely clicked as to what had happened. I had entirely forgotten the last 4 days, but parts of it came back. They kindly took me down to the reception, gave me a glass of water and called the ambulance I so desparately needed.
Day 6 (Monday)
In the ambulance, I noticed they had the blue lights and sirens going. I wondered why. The drugs were still running very strongly in me at this point, and I hadn't slept in over 90 hours at this point. The pain in my side was so intense I had to stay doubled over. The paramedics asked me why.
When I got to hospital, for a while everything calmed down a touch. I explained to them all the drugs I had taken, and they left me to my devices for a bit. Then, the cursed psychosis kicked in again, and I became convinced that one of the nurses was evil and out to kill me.
Next thing I know, I come to in a different room. There's one other guy in there with me, looking at me with the same look of concern everyone had been giving me that day. I knew he was out to kill me.
I come to a third time, in a third room. I lay there for an hour or two, trying to process what on earth might be happening to me. The pain in my side was all consuming at this point. For a while, all was once again calm. Then a mad, crazed doctor ran into the room. He was brandishing a scalpel in each hand, cutting frenziedly at me. He ran at me, chopping away at the air in front of me.
I screamed, and screamed, and screamed. Then, nothing.
Next - I awaken, and I'm in a white room on my own. The nurses came in, and I recognised the one that was the love of my life. She knew, I knew, but noone else knew. In reality at this point, I was very very nearly dead. The 6-APB and unknown RC (the 10g bag) had melted my muscles and in turn caused my kidneys to fail. They had dissolved into my bloodstream, and I was going to die. The last ditch effort was to drill a hole into my neck, feed a wire down my neck artery and stab it into my heart. All of this had to be done whilst I was awake and conscious.
A great number of nurses (including the one that was apparently the love of my life) pinned me down in preparation for the neck drilling and wire insertion. I do remember a doctor saying very firmly to me "DON'T TOUCH YOUR NECK WHEN WE DO THIS". But, when a doctor slices your neck with a scalpel, every last nerve screams out to touch it. So impulsively I did. They all screamed "DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON'T!!!!" I remember letting out a gargled scream as they inserted this thing down my neck and into my heart. It was harrowing beyond description. The white room turned red.
I awaken again, and I'm in the same room. Except this time, the love of my life has gone, and someone has installed a giant viewing window that looks into the next room. In there is a scary man with a shotgun, and his girlfriend. They're guarding me somehow, I decide to lie low. The room is changing colour, undulating, changing shape. The man with the shotgun comes into my room, and menacingly circles my bed. I knew he meant me harm.
I awaken. I'm in a car park, but it's sterile and brilliantly white. The floor, ceiling, walls, everything a brilliant white. In the centre was a pool table, robed in white sheets. My family are standing round it. There are 3 angels. I know it's some kind of summit.
I awaken. I'm in a shopping trolley, being pushed to the hospital doors from the carpark.
Day 7 (Tuesday)
I awaken. This time I ACTUALLY awaken. I remember tumbling down a hill with my brother (as kids) just before this happened.
This time, I'm somewhere new. It's cold, clinical, and circular. It's dark, it's nighttime. Other than the bleeping, it's deathly silent. There were flashing machines all around me, and not a single other person in this big circular room. I didn't know it, but actually I was in intensive care. All I could think, though, was that I had been abducted and was aboard a UFO.
Then, a male nurse comes to me. As you can imagine, my cognitive function was impaired at this point (but amazingly I remember it all like it was yesterday). I asked him where I was. He said I was in intensive care, a part of the hospital with only 10 beds. There was an unimpressed tone in his voice, and fair enough I suppose. The intensive care bed had to be used for a useless drug addict!
Well, I tried to wrap my head round where I was. But I forgot, so I asked the nurse the same thing again. And again, And again. Eventually, he asked if I would like something to help me sleep. He injected me with something that felt very, VERY strange. I later found out it was a heroic dose of Haliperidol. The doctor who told me couldn't believe the dose that had been given, but considering almost nothing else could knock me out due to all the stimulants, I guess it was necessary.
So, he injected the haliperidol, and I zonked out. When I awoke again, it was daylight. But the hospital had turned into a medieval manor house. I don't know why, but the haliperidol mixed with everything else just made the psychosis stronger. It did mellow me out and make me an easier person to deal with though. I heard stories since from the doctors and nurses that I was absolutely hilarious, because I 100% believed that this was the medieval. One nurse called me "the nicest whackjob we've ever had in here" which was high praise indeed.
All the doctors and nurses were dressed in medieval gear. I remember the straw on the ground, the dust in the air. Apparently I was ordering drinks at 'the bar' for my friends and family who came to visit. I suppose that if I wasn't on the verge of death with a hundred cables coming out of me hooked to beeping machines, it might actually have been funny for them too.
Day 8 (Wednesday)
After a day in medieval hospital, I reawaken. On this day, I remember all the nurses and doctors morphing and changing into friends and family of mine. I remember one nurse bringing in a giant flask of laughing gas and releasing the valve so we could all "have a laugh". Obviously this didn't happen, but I remember it like it was yesterday, and as far as my mind's concerned, it happened.
Day 9 onwards
And so we reach the end of my torrid tale. I was in intensive care for a further 6 days, during which time my cognitive function returned and my psychosis disappeared completely. They told me that it cost over £150000 to keep me alive, and that's a hell of a thing to have on your conscience. I went through years of anxiety and panic attacks following this. I lost my job, destroyed the trust my family had in me.
I don't really know why I wrote this all up. Maybe because I've just wanted to tell someone, ANYONE who might read and find it interesting just what happened during that fucked up week. Maybe I wrote this because I want to dissuade other youngsters who might try similar things. I got very, very lucky for a great number of reasons.
I don't know. Peace, love and light. Respect the RC's, and NEVER buy from an unknown vendor when the deal is too good to be true. Very nearly killed me.
Tagged by Xorkoth
substancecode_subutex
substancecode_buprenorphine
substancecode_opiates
substancecode_pharms
substancecode_valium
substancecode_diazepam
substancecode_benzos
substancecode_gabaergics
substancecode_6apb
substancecode_empathogens
substancecode_unknown
substancecode_haloperidol
substancecode_antipsychotics
_combo_
explevel_veryexperienced
exptype_negative
exptype_healthissues
exptype_difficult
exptype_disaster
exptype_addiction
exptype_overdose
roacode_oral
Experience - VERY Experienced
Hi all,
This is the first time I have ever attempted or dared to write up the following. This is a 100% true story from start to finish, and chronicles the trainwreck that turned me from research chemicals (RC empathogens in particular). All this happened to me 10 years ago, and I went through years of pain, heartache and therapy to get to where I am today, which is straight, sober and happy again with life.
Day 1 (Wednesday)
This was the bender to end all benders. My wife and I had been having a terrible time, both of us hooked on one chemical or the other whilst attempting to lead a normal life. Things had come to a head, and she'd packed off with the kids somewhere, leaving me on my own in the house to sort out my shit and get the hell out.
As you can imagine, a traumatic time for anyone. I was very well versed in obtaining drugs from the Internet. This was back in the good old days when all you needed to do was a quick search through Topix, and you could have whatever illicit you wanted. That year, I'd come off of a big oxy habit, and was at the time on 8mg subutex a day. I'd also got myself hooked on valium, eating between 50-100mg a day.
Well, the subs and vallys, whilst perfectly pleasant, just couldn't touch the depression I felt. So - that first day they left - I got researching on the RC sites. There was a new drug, 6-APB, that was apparently a great psychedelic alternative to MDMA. I ordered a gram, special order.
Day 2 (Thursday)
The 6-APB arrived. I worked throughout the day, popping vallies as I usually did until the evening came. As soon as I finished work, down the hatch with the 6-APB. I had the most amazing night, there on my own. I was so, soooooo euphoric, all the stresses and strains of life just melted away. Beautiful cosmic rainbows of infinitely intense colour filled my living room, this was quite a drug! I got on the Internet and found an RC shop that could get me another 2g 6-APB by the next day. Needless to say, I ordered it right up.
Day 3 (Friday)
I left the house because my family were coming back and I needed to be gone. I had no real plan, save to get to my office with my suitcase. I got there, and happily a few hours later the APB was delivered to my desk (got to love special delivery RC's straight to work). I munched down 250mg to keep me going through work, knowing that it wouldn't impact me as much as the night before. I also had my 8mg subs, and a massive bag of valium (500 x 10mg blues) to keep me going.
The work day ended, and my colleagues left. They knew my family situation, and the plan was to kip on the office floor so I could sort out accommodation over the weekend. I worked in a very high pressure environment, and had often slept in the office before, so this was no problem. As soon as everyone had left, I took 750mg 6-APB. During the day I'd found a site that was willing to sell me 10g for £100. In my inebriated state, the alarm bells at this low price had not rung out. How I wish they had. I came up on the APB, and night set in. I remember going on a mad stomp through Cambridge, photographing the weird trippy stuff I saw. I have those photos to this day, some of them are actually really good! I have a hard time looking at them though.
As the night progressed, I ate the remaining gram of APB, and got completely and royally fucked right up. I had a GREAT night, once again my problems were far, far away, and I could hide in my hallucinatory, serotonin soaked state.
Day 4 (Saturday)
Today, the 10g of so-called 6-APB got delivered to me. I immediately dose up to keep on truckin', because I haven't slept in over 48 hours now. That day was relatively normal. My father came to town because he'd heard what had happened, we went out and had a lovely Chinese meal. I'm very good at appearing sober when absolutely fucked, it was no trouble. The subutex and valium helped lots too.
My dad went homeward mid afternoon, and I headed back to the office. I was bored and in the mood for more fun, so had a look and found there was a badass drum & bass night on that night in town. I was constantly nibbling away at the 10g bag of so-called APB, noticing that it wasn't having the same effect as the stuff I'd taken prior. This I put down to it being the 3rd night on the trot.
I went to the drum and bass night, and partied my ASS off. I was stimulated beyond belief, but noticed there was no trippiness to whatever I was now taking. I thought nothing of it though, and kept right on going.
Day 5 (Sunday)
At 7 in the morning, the drum and bass night ended. After a lovely chat with some beautiful raver ladies, I caught a taxi back to the office. It was then I got the first pang of anxiety that perhaps this bizarre new lifestyle I'd adopted could not be maintained. I hadn't even thought about getting accommodation or anything sensible like that, I was far too occupied with getting fucked up and having fun.
At lunch time, my mate came and picked me up, and took me to the same restaurant I'd been to on Saturday. At some point throughout this meeting, I got very, very confused, and could not find my keys. I was convinced I'd lost them. I told my mate - Never mind, I'm heading into town, and off into town I went.
When I reached town, all of a sudden everything changed on me. I'd been so calm, so serene, so IN CONTROL (or so I thought). Suddenly all I felt was fear and paranoia. I went to a pub to have a calming beer. And that's when things started to get ugly.
I got my beer, took it out the back. In those days I smoked rollups, and fancied one. I noticed my hands were shaking so badly there was no way I could possibly make the cigarette. We're talking proper full on massive shaking, everyone else could see it too. I asked someone to make me a cigarette, they obliged, then I got the hell out of there. Walking along the pavement, I felt my whole perspective change, as if the world got squashed horizontally. Everything became very thin and very tall. I distinctly remember a man grabbing me by the shoulders, looking deep into my eyes and simply saying "GO HOME" in a booming deep voice. In retrospect, I'm not convinced that this actually happened.
So I beat a hasty retreat back to the office, took some more stimulants and a LOT of valium. Within the hour I felt much better, and much more in control again. It was early Sunday evening by this point, and I needed to get my stuff out of the office. Unfortunately, this would never happen. I spoke to my parents on the phone which was nice, then booked myself into a local hotel. And that's the point that shit really got fucked up.
Paranoia gripped me more intensely than it ever had. It was about 9pm by this point. The rest of this report I can't really name times, but it all happened through the course of Sunday night and the following Wednesday.
I was SURE that people in a car were coming to get me. Convinced of it. How could they put up with me being here, in this office? It was simply unacceptable. They were certainly on their way. I didn't know who these people would be, but I knew they meant business. Every time I heard a car pass outside, my heart filled with dread. I decided to hide under a desk so that they couldn't see me.
But.. OH FUCK! The valium. Oh. Fuck. And the APB! Shit! I've got to hide it all. Just - take some then hide it. This I did, I hid it all somewhere in the server room of my office.
A moment of clarity.. People coming to the office? Why would they do that? Noone knew I was there. Ok, on Friday night a walk sorted me out, I'll go for a walk again.
So, I went for a walk. I remember getting to a darkened walkway away from the road. There was a guy in a hoodie rolling along the ground. I went over to talk to him. When I got to him, I asked a question. Instead of replying, he disappeared in a whispy puff of black smoke. This didn't strike me as strange at the time though. I simply sat down on the path. I knew I was waiting for a girl and a guy. The girl turned up and sat with me, but the guy was nowhere to be seen. I looked round to find out the girl was actually a white plastic bag that was tangled in a bush.
At this point, BANG!! Another attack of mad irrational paranoia. I was CONVINCED the police were chasing me, so I better run. So I ran, oh how I ran. I could hear the policemen closing in behind me. They grabbed me by the legs and bang, I headbutted asphalt (this actually happened, but in reality I just sprinted away from nothing, tripped over my own feet and smashed my face into the road). I got up from the policemen, and I ran, ran ran ran raaaaaaaaaan like the wind. Got caught by them a few more times and smashed myself up, but I got away every time (fairly obviously, there was noone actually there).
I remember trying to flag cars down to pick me up and take me away from the danger. I was waiting for the ambulance to arrive. But every single set of headlights that I saw just drove straight on by. I cannot describe the desperation and anguish I felt.
After a certain amount of time, the psychosis switched gears on me again and I calmed. I had a massive pain in my side, but there were more important things to worry about. I decided to head back to the office.
At the office (which was a big complex of small offices) I could no longer remember which office was mine. So, I wandered the corridors. I found a locked room, and saw two of my friends inside. They seemed distressed. There was this cleaner guy came round the corner, and I asked him if he had the key so I could rescue my friends (worryingly enough, I think the poor cleaner guy was in fact actually real). He looked a bit scared, extremely confused and hurried away from me pretty quick.
All of a sudden, I'm back in the office. Then I'm outside. There's valium all over the ground. Fucking valium EVERYWHERE! Except every time I picked one up, it turned out not to be valium, but a stone, piece of paper, or nothing at all. I wondered around for a considerable time picking up valium that didn't exist.
Then, I'm back in the office. The paranoia grew stronger. Daylight was creeping in by this point. I remember looking in the mirror and I was covered in blood from where I'd faceplanted after being 'attacked' by the policemen earlier in the night. The paranoia grew stronger still. I could see the woman and men that were coming for me. They wanted the valium. I could hear the car approaching.
So again, I ran like the wind, grabbing the valium and APB bags as I did so (thankfully I actually did this, because otherwise my colleagues would have found said bags sooner or later). I ran out of the office, and ran with all my might to get away from the woman and men that were chasing me. I threw the drugs away, and kept on running. I smashed my phone to pieces so they couldn't figure out who my friends were.
Sooner or later (this part is hazy) I end up back at the office. It was fully daylight now, people would be getting to work soon. And that's when I heard the helicopter. I saw the terrorists descending on ropes, running along the walkways. I saw their massive machineguns, and knew who they had come for.
I phoned down to the reception at this point, mindlessly garbling about how terrorists were taking over my office and to get up here NOW!!!
And so they did. As soon as I saw the dread on their faces, it vaguely clicked as to what had happened. I had entirely forgotten the last 4 days, but parts of it came back. They kindly took me down to the reception, gave me a glass of water and called the ambulance I so desparately needed.
Day 6 (Monday)
In the ambulance, I noticed they had the blue lights and sirens going. I wondered why. The drugs were still running very strongly in me at this point, and I hadn't slept in over 90 hours at this point. The pain in my side was so intense I had to stay doubled over. The paramedics asked me why.
When I got to hospital, for a while everything calmed down a touch. I explained to them all the drugs I had taken, and they left me to my devices for a bit. Then, the cursed psychosis kicked in again, and I became convinced that one of the nurses was evil and out to kill me.
Next thing I know, I come to in a different room. There's one other guy in there with me, looking at me with the same look of concern everyone had been giving me that day. I knew he was out to kill me.
I come to a third time, in a third room. I lay there for an hour or two, trying to process what on earth might be happening to me. The pain in my side was all consuming at this point. For a while, all was once again calm. Then a mad, crazed doctor ran into the room. He was brandishing a scalpel in each hand, cutting frenziedly at me. He ran at me, chopping away at the air in front of me.
I screamed, and screamed, and screamed. Then, nothing.
Next - I awaken, and I'm in a white room on my own. The nurses came in, and I recognised the one that was the love of my life. She knew, I knew, but noone else knew. In reality at this point, I was very very nearly dead. The 6-APB and unknown RC (the 10g bag) had melted my muscles and in turn caused my kidneys to fail. They had dissolved into my bloodstream, and I was going to die. The last ditch effort was to drill a hole into my neck, feed a wire down my neck artery and stab it into my heart. All of this had to be done whilst I was awake and conscious.
A great number of nurses (including the one that was apparently the love of my life) pinned me down in preparation for the neck drilling and wire insertion. I do remember a doctor saying very firmly to me "DON'T TOUCH YOUR NECK WHEN WE DO THIS". But, when a doctor slices your neck with a scalpel, every last nerve screams out to touch it. So impulsively I did. They all screamed "DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON'T!!!!" I remember letting out a gargled scream as they inserted this thing down my neck and into my heart. It was harrowing beyond description. The white room turned red.
I awaken again, and I'm in the same room. Except this time, the love of my life has gone, and someone has installed a giant viewing window that looks into the next room. In there is a scary man with a shotgun, and his girlfriend. They're guarding me somehow, I decide to lie low. The room is changing colour, undulating, changing shape. The man with the shotgun comes into my room, and menacingly circles my bed. I knew he meant me harm.
I awaken. I'm in a car park, but it's sterile and brilliantly white. The floor, ceiling, walls, everything a brilliant white. In the centre was a pool table, robed in white sheets. My family are standing round it. There are 3 angels. I know it's some kind of summit.
I awaken. I'm in a shopping trolley, being pushed to the hospital doors from the carpark.
Day 7 (Tuesday)
I awaken. This time I ACTUALLY awaken. I remember tumbling down a hill with my brother (as kids) just before this happened.
This time, I'm somewhere new. It's cold, clinical, and circular. It's dark, it's nighttime. Other than the bleeping, it's deathly silent. There were flashing machines all around me, and not a single other person in this big circular room. I didn't know it, but actually I was in intensive care. All I could think, though, was that I had been abducted and was aboard a UFO.
Then, a male nurse comes to me. As you can imagine, my cognitive function was impaired at this point (but amazingly I remember it all like it was yesterday). I asked him where I was. He said I was in intensive care, a part of the hospital with only 10 beds. There was an unimpressed tone in his voice, and fair enough I suppose. The intensive care bed had to be used for a useless drug addict!
Well, I tried to wrap my head round where I was. But I forgot, so I asked the nurse the same thing again. And again, And again. Eventually, he asked if I would like something to help me sleep. He injected me with something that felt very, VERY strange. I later found out it was a heroic dose of Haliperidol. The doctor who told me couldn't believe the dose that had been given, but considering almost nothing else could knock me out due to all the stimulants, I guess it was necessary.
So, he injected the haliperidol, and I zonked out. When I awoke again, it was daylight. But the hospital had turned into a medieval manor house. I don't know why, but the haliperidol mixed with everything else just made the psychosis stronger. It did mellow me out and make me an easier person to deal with though. I heard stories since from the doctors and nurses that I was absolutely hilarious, because I 100% believed that this was the medieval. One nurse called me "the nicest whackjob we've ever had in here" which was high praise indeed.
All the doctors and nurses were dressed in medieval gear. I remember the straw on the ground, the dust in the air. Apparently I was ordering drinks at 'the bar' for my friends and family who came to visit. I suppose that if I wasn't on the verge of death with a hundred cables coming out of me hooked to beeping machines, it might actually have been funny for them too.
Day 8 (Wednesday)
After a day in medieval hospital, I reawaken. On this day, I remember all the nurses and doctors morphing and changing into friends and family of mine. I remember one nurse bringing in a giant flask of laughing gas and releasing the valve so we could all "have a laugh". Obviously this didn't happen, but I remember it like it was yesterday, and as far as my mind's concerned, it happened.
Day 9 onwards
And so we reach the end of my torrid tale. I was in intensive care for a further 6 days, during which time my cognitive function returned and my psychosis disappeared completely. They told me that it cost over £150000 to keep me alive, and that's a hell of a thing to have on your conscience. I went through years of anxiety and panic attacks following this. I lost my job, destroyed the trust my family had in me.
I don't really know why I wrote this all up. Maybe because I've just wanted to tell someone, ANYONE who might read and find it interesting just what happened during that fucked up week. Maybe I wrote this because I want to dissuade other youngsters who might try similar things. I got very, very lucky for a great number of reasons.
I don't know. Peace, love and light. Respect the RC's, and NEVER buy from an unknown vendor when the deal is too good to be true. Very nearly killed me.
Tagged by Xorkoth
substancecode_subutex
substancecode_buprenorphine
substancecode_opiates
substancecode_pharms
substancecode_valium
substancecode_diazepam
substancecode_benzos
substancecode_gabaergics
substancecode_6apb
substancecode_empathogens
substancecode_unknown
substancecode_haloperidol
substancecode_antipsychotics
_combo_
explevel_veryexperienced
exptype_negative
exptype_healthissues
exptype_difficult
exptype_disaster
exptype_addiction
exptype_overdose
roacode_oral
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