(Added a link on the right to the Hiptop Archive. I reread it, and I'm surprised. Somehow, I managed to write a few good entries on a three inch keyboard.)

New Year's Eve, 2005

So, how did I ring in 2006? Heh, in the hospital.

Why? Well, one word: Ecstasy.

That's all folks! Goodnight!
...

Ok, so Amy had introduced me to X a few months ago. A nice little red pill that, when I finally worked up the nerve to take it, made me feel absolutely fantastic. Ecstatic...HAPPY!!! My eyes dilated, and every point of light became a glistening star. I was walking on air. Everything bad didn't exist- all was euphoric. This was what Paxil was supposed to do for me, in my mind.

It was a great feeling, yes, but I didn't go overboard. In the span of four months, I dropped X twice. I was thinking that it was better than drinking- the same social lubrication and inhibitions inhibitor without the loss of motor control.

So, New Year's Eve, 2005. I had ran out of the 'Red' ones a while ago, so a friend got me a 'blue' one, which I took around 7pm. Who knew such a simple color change would entail dramatically different effects?

So, my original New Years's Eve plans to go to a party fell through, and on top of that I started feeling real drowsy around 10pm, so, for the first time since I was a kid, I decided to just sleep through the holiday.

At 11pm, I awoke with a start and jumped out of bed, hyperventilating.

The room was too bright I couldn't breathe tingeling all over arm numb breath breath breath, run, circles, walk, try to breath, deep breaths, water get water need to drink.

(Just to give you an idea of my thought processes, such as it was.)

The closest analogy would be the worst anxiety/panic attack I've ever felt. Just thinking about it is making me feel a little nervous.

My heart was racing like I ran a marathon, even though I had been lying down. My blood pressure was extremly low, as evidenced by the veins in my arm and hands constricting to thread-like proportions. I couldn't sit still at all, I couldn't concentrate, my mouth was so dry I couldn't swallow...I just felt this overwhelming fear that I was moments from death.

So, even though a part of me kept telling myself I could make it through, that I'd get in trouble, that I couldn't afford it... I called an ambulance.

I paced around on the sidewalk outside my apartment, waiting for the ambulance to arrive while talking to Joan, the 911 operator. I have to say, they train these people well. From miles away she managed to keep me calm for twenty minutes or so until help arrived.

The paramedic had the exact kind of attitude I was expecting- Seen it all, done it all, and I'm not being paid enough to really, really care. But he stuck the sticky heart monitor pads to my chest and took my blood pressure, asking me a few questions on the way to St. Francis. (The hosptial of choice, apparently, when one doesn't have insurance.)

So to make a long story short I was given a bed at the hospital, and the next couple of hours was spent giving me water and medicines that would bring my heart rate down and stop my muscles from jerking.

I started to calm down and felt better, and since I heard from the nurses banter that it would get extremly busy fairly shortly, due to the holiday, I decided to check out. People who were really sick would be needing these beds soon.

In the end, I wound up with a $700 bill. Lesson learned, I suppose. The moral of this story?

Stick to the Red ones.

Or just say No. Whatever.