Overdose: How I got into the toxicology department
Drug overdose - this is in every sense a traumatic experience, allowing you to see the ins and outs of medicine. Needless to say, taking drugs is harmful, but it is especially dangerous to mix them with other psychotropic substances, such as anti-depressants. On condition of anonymity, we publish the story of a Moscow student who ended up in the toxicological department after using amphetamine. She told how drugs affect people with panic attacks, what side effects a strong antidepressant can have, and how a mixture of amphetamine and a tachycardia preparation almost brought her to a mental hospital.
IN MATERIAL may not contain information for persons under 18 years old.
About drugs and work
The first time I tried drugs in Berlin. About half a year in Moscow, I went to raves, each time taking "dancing substances" - I did not attach any importance to this. The situation worsened last fall: I found a new job in a large multinational company, where colleagues began to regularly treat with drugs. We often went to clubs, sometimes we took it right in the office. Around this time, I signed up for a psychotherapist due to panic attacks and a depressed state. I did not tell the doctor about drugs, it seemed to me that I was in control of the situation. For example, I have never had amphetamine waste that my friends complained about.
I had panic attacks a couple of times a year when I was still in school, but with the transition to a new job, they began to happen almost every day. My relationship with my boss was bordering on the Abuse, and all the time it seemed to me that nothing was working out. We agreed with the doctor that if I was going to drink, I should stop taking antidepressants for a couple of days, because they cannot be interfered with alcohol. After a couple of months, my mental state improved markedly, and I decided to follow the advice before the party at the techno club.
That night I first drank champagne, and then my colleagues treated me to amphetamine. I hung out until nine in the morning in a "quiet" mode: I chatted with my friends, smoked. After the party I went to a coffee shop to write an essay on history for the university; Of course, I didn’t even think about a dream - thanks to stimulants. But suddenly I had an intense panic attack, as if I had almost been hit by a car. But it did not last two seconds, but about ten minutes - and the state became worse.
One of the side effects of my antidepressants is severe tachycardia. The psychotherapist prescribed me powerful pills that lower the pulse, and told me to take half if it would be unbearable. I used them often, but never exceeded the dose. This time I went too far - I drank four or five pieces. With each pill, the pulse first slowed down, and then grew back again, so I swallowed one by one. I only got worse: my breathing was almost completely blocked, I had a severe burn in my chest, my pulse was off-scale. In tears, I called a friend and asked to come. While I was waiting for her, a girl came up to me from a nearby table and brought a giant piece of delicious cake. She hugged me and asked me not to cry - I thought that the guy had left me. If!
Emergency and hospital
I asked a friend to call me an ambulance; when the doctors arrived, first of all they screamed at me for crying, then they washed the stomach. I didn’t talk about drugs — only about heart rate pills and visits to a psychotherapist — they immediately strained somehow. They began to ask why I, so "young and beautiful," go to a "psychiatrist." Then they even noticed scratches on the hands of the cat (if you were offended by a pet at least once, you can’t be misunderstood) and made a bold conclusion that I am prone to suicide.
I was offered to go to the hospital to lie there until the evening just in case. At this time, a friend called my parents to report what was happening. It turned out that on the same night my mother found in my room a packet with amphetamine left over from the party.
In the waiting room I met my mother: she was crying, her voice was trembling - I had never seen her in such a state. Then I was taken to a doctor, who began to shout at me and convince me that I wanted to commit suicide. I am glad that all this time I had a girlfriend - she tried to explain to the family that it was not a matter of suicide, but simply a reaction to amphetamine. I can give advice: if you get to the hospital, carefully watch what you sign. I personally signed on paper on my nerves, stating that I was hospitalized when I tried to commit suicide.
Alien suicide
I was taken to the toxicology department. First of all, they tied the belts to the bed — they say that they do it to everyone who cries and asks to go home. Then they began to make droppers. All this time, two guys walked down the corridor and very rudely discussed me, in the spirit of: "Oh, what tits, I would have you ****". I was very afraid that I would stay alone at night and something terrible would happen. Towards evening I burst into tears again. A girl came up to me, just like from the cartoon "Spirited Away", and asked me not to cry, otherwise it would be worse if the doctors saw it. Soon I was transferred to a regular ward, they handed me a bunch of food and a note from my mother - this was the only way to communicate with the outside world. I reread them many, many times, as if I were in the zone.
Neighbors in the ward were very different. For example, a woman from Armenia over forty - she had a fight with her lover, almost set fire to the apartment, and then drank some kind of mixture to commit suicide. There was also an eighteen-year-old girl Katya, who was trying to commit suicide, we still communicate; This was her second attempt. Katya reads a lot and draws well. Due to the fact that my books were not censored (at that time I was studying the history of physicality), I took what was on her bedside table - something about ways to become happy and a person who loved drugs and cats.
Once they let her mother go to her: they talked, cried a lot, Katya asked to go home. But the mother signed a consent to transfer her daughter to a psychiatric hospital, and now she will be released only in June. It's good that my mother secretly gave her the phone, and now we sometimes correspond. My mother was also ready to sign such a paper - the local doctor tried to convince her that I needed it.
Doctors and Nurses
I heard a lot about the horrors of Russian medicine, but I did not think that there was some truth in this. Personally, I got nurses who mocked patients. When I cried, one of them said that if I did not shut up, she would give me a stick in the eye. Then they brought a man who constantly asked to be allowed to go home - I understood him very well. Towards evening, when he became sluggish with droppers, the nurses pulled off the sheet and began to loudly discuss his penis.
In toxicology all talk only about discharge. One guy who had been lying here for the second week, once came very happy, because the doctor promised that they would take him in the evening. As a result, he was not released: it turned out, the doctor said this, just to get rid of. In my experience, doctors and nurses were just annoyed when they were approached. You cannot walk along the corridor and “loom”, otherwise they will threaten that “they will even solder two” - that is, they will leave them for two additional days in the hospital. I remember a terrific examination, when the doctors came to the ward, stood silently for one minute and left without responding to a single question.
Extract and new lifestyle
I was discharged quickly because my psychotherapist was working in the same hospital. I waited for him to finally come and calm me down, but he said only something in the spirit: "How could you mess up like that? You have to start all over again." Re-picking up the pills and reporting to him on the phone was very hard, I still didn’t receive adequate support. My parents thought that I was uncomfortable with him, because the doctor knew about drugs, so I had to go to receptions for some time.
Family trust after this situation was completely destroyed: I moved back to my parents, I was no longer allowed to go anywhere for the night. It is now a little easier, but the first month I came home by train at ten in the evening. Mom calls several times a day to find out how I am doing and to say that she loves me. Now my emotions do not go unnoticed: Mom feels terrible, even when I did not get enough sleep. My mode improved: I fall asleep no later than midnight and get up no later than eight without an alarm clock. I read and write texts in the mornings, I actively use the HeadSpace application - permanent employment helps not to dwell on memories. The change of antidepressants did not help, so now I am developing a new treatment regimen with a new psychotherapist.
Photo: Pavel Losevsky - stock.adobe.com, Dmitry Vereshchagin - stock.adobe.com, Maksim Kostenko - stock.adobe.com, Paolese - stock.adobe.com
