My Life Part VI: The Overdose

My crash came late one evening.

I had been on my daily salad of various prescription meds.  My favorites, and Oxys and Roxys.  Today I head to the liquor store and end up drinking a bottle of Jack as well.

Let me mention, I have a roommate.  I’m buying this house, but I hate being alone so I have a woman move in with me.  …No, believe it or not, we were never involved.  …Could have been, but I know what happens then.  The rent starts coming late, and before long the only payment you receive is a piece of ass.  I get plenty of ass.  What I need is money.

That’s funny because I almost said I don’t pay for ass, but that would be a lie.  Men, in one way or another, you always pay for it.  Trust me!

I will tell you what happened to me.  However, much of it was told to me by the people who were there.

I parked sideways across my lawn.  My roommate was talking to a friend in my driveway.  I guess I needed more room to park.  I’m barely able to stand, so my roommate helps me to my room, at which time I lay down and stop breathing.  Foam starts coming out of my mouth.  She calls 9-1-1.

I hear walkie-talkies.  Everything is dark.  There is static.  The static begins to clear.  I hurt.  My throat is on fire.  It feels like someone is sitting on my chest.  Someone is sitting on my chest.  Why are you hurting me?  I don’t recognize anyone.  I hear the walkie-talkie again.  I focus.  The guy on my chest is a paramedic.  I’m strapped down to a flat board on my bedroom floor.  I can’t move.  I hurt.  I pass out.

The static again.  Then the voices.  I’m coming back.  The only thing I could say was, “Maria.”  I said, “Maria, please help me.  I need help.”  But Maria is long gone and so am I.

Lights.  The darkness is going away and the light is coming back.  I hear a voice.  I know that voice.  Where have I heard that voice?  Then I’m gone again.

“Michael.” 

I hear my name.  

“Michael, you’re going to be ok.” 

There’s that voice again.

“Mike, it’s Aaron.”

So that’s where I heard that voice.  It’s my little brother.  The sweetest voice says to me, “I’m right here, Mike, you’re going to be ok.”  My little brother is holding my hand.  He’s talking me back.  I’m going to be ok.  My little brother is with me.

The next time I wake up, I feel rested.  My brother is still right beside me.  He stayed by my side the whole time.  I am released and I leave the hospital with my brother.

Between my roommate and my brother, I find out what happened.

I passed out on my bed and my roommate called 9-1-1.  By the time the paramedics arrived, they had to shock me back with the paddles.  I would come around then they would lose me again.  They pumped my stomach right there on my floor.  That’s why my throat was so sore – the hose they shoved down my throat.  I came to during them pumping me, and threw the paramedics across the room.  That’s why one was sitting on my chest.  There was also one on each arm and one on each leg.

My brother showed up at the hospital.  He got a call and came to the emergency room.  We had a long talk the day I was released to him following my near-death experience.  I was 100% sober, and I was locked in his car.  Aaron took advantage of the situation.  My brother told me how much he loved me.  He explained to me that he didn’t come see me anymore because he couldn’t bear to see me killing myself.  It all made sense.  I was killing myself.  Right then and there I vowed to never mix pills and alcohol again.

My brother takes me home and I’m sober.  This will never do.  I grab a handful of pills and swallow.  Off and running again.

I didn’t learn anything.  My brother did begin to come by more and check up on me.  I tried to work harder at flying under the radar.  I know I’m a mess.  I remember picking Kimmy up and we would watch the dolphins swim in the river.  She was just as bad as me.  We would sit there and talk about our lives – how drugs would one day kill us, and how we needed to change.  Two addicts can’t help each other.  Every time I left her, we vowed to work on cleaning up.

I wish I could tell her I finally did.  I didn’t get that chance.

I continued using prescription meds.  Because I had a house payment, I was going to work.  After my O.D., things were off with my roommate.  I really scared her that day.  She spent more time away.  I needed some excitement in my life.  Let’s throw a motorcycle into the mix.  It’s been a few years since I had a motorcycle.  So I buy a bike.

Once again I’m riding.  It feels good.  Every week on Thursday, I meet up with a group and we hit bike night.  When I’m riding, I feel high.  I don’t feel the need to use.  The bike makes me happy.  What I don’t like is being by myself.  I’m starting to get over loose women.  …Meaningless sex with a chick I don’t care about isn’t fun anymore.  I want to have a companion.

On weekends I have all my friends come to my house.  I am a people-person and love to have people around.  Many of my friends rent or live in houses with no yards.  I have a big yard, and I put in a huge fire-pit.  We have great parties.  My brother even came by sometimes.  A couple of my good friends say they have a friend they want me to meet.  I agree.

Andi comes to the next party I have.  We are introduced.  Andi is beautiful.  I offer her a beer.  “No, thanks.”

Andrea doesn’t drink – wow!  That’s different.  Did I say Andi was beautiful?  Until this point, I’d been with strippers who were 20-27 or 28.  Very shallow girls, loud girls, drunk and drugged girls – annoying girls.  Andrea is none of the above.  She is 35, has her own place and is intelligent.

This party goes late into the night.  By 1:30 a.m., nearly everyone has left.  I’m not drunk – barely even drank that night.  The couple who introduced us was still there.  I cooked breakfast and we watched a movie.  My thoughts were: She doesn’t drink – wonderful.  She’s beautiful – even better.  …Now to run down the clock so she’ll stay the night with me.  

Well, she stayed the night, but I found out that she doesn’t drink and she doesn’t have sex.  Usually she would be thrown out of my castle – not Andi.  She can stay.  After she left the next day began the longest week in the history of Michael.  We had our next date on Saturday night.

I pick her up on my bike.  She likes my bike.  That’s a must. 

We have a blast, then get a movie and head back to my place.  I’m really into this girl.  She says she’ll stay the night, but not to get my hopes up.  The bottom line is that Andrea was warned that I was a player.  This woman was smart.  If she had slept with me the first night, I would have never called her again.  I’m not used to this.  It used to be either you put out or you get out.  I’m dealing with a woman here, and she has crawled inside my head.

During my time with Andi, my drug use was at a minimum.  I didn’t dare tell her I was a junkie.  I was on my best behavior.  Even during the week, between visits.

We made plans to hit the beach the next weekend.  My life was getting better.  I actually had food in my refrigerator.  I cooked and ate food.  After a day on the beach, we head home.  We had a wonderful day.  I was happy.

Over the next couple weeks my brother met her.  He liked her too.  She was a sweetheart.  My Dad came into town and said how nice she was.  I had a good thing.  She even got me to go to church with her.

Then the drugs came calling.  I’m not sure what the trigger was, but something happened.  I chose my drug.  Andrea even wanted to help.  She said she saw the good in me.  I came clean with her and told her I was a user.  Andi wanted to get me help, and I pushed her away.

Within a couple weeks I was at zero again.  All the good I had in my life, and I throw it away to drugs.  Every damn time.

Once again I’m lonely.  Just me and my drugs.

Copyright M.S. 2011