Citation: Anonymous. "Eventual Damage: An Experience with Cocaine (exp11008)". Erowid.org. Sep 21, 2005. erowid.org/exp/11008
Before this I had already tried alcohol, marijuana, hash, and snorted coke.
Well that day started off just like many others. Woke up at 11:00 a.m. Went downstairs and ate breakfast. I spent the rest of the day on the phone selling steroids and checking up on the local gossip. I went to the gym, worked out, went home, took a shower and ate dinner. By then it was around 7:00 p.m. Since I was selling steroids at the time I had 100’s of needles laying around for my customers. I was getting bored while listening to music. Then I remembered having seen a guy on TV. He was dropping Cocaine into a water filled spoon. He took a lighter and cooked it up. Hey, I have some coke laying around, and an idea popped into my head.
I went down stairs to the family kitchen and got a spoon. Then I went up to my room and locked the door. I removed my hidden stash of coke. The problem was I didn’t know how much to shoot. Being a little cautious a dropped a few lines worth of coke into the spoon and then cooked it up. I noticed a real strong chemical smell like ammonia. This scent was familiar, as I had snorted coke many times before. Just the smell was enough to get my heart racing. I was conditioned like a Pavlov dog.
I tied up my arm with a bandana as I had seen done on TV. It looked cool and hell, I was always a little bit impressionable. Then I got the needle and loaded it up with coke / water mixture. This needle was no joke, an 1-1/2 inch spike. Definitely overkill. I should have used a tiny insulin syringe. The rest is simple. I stuck the needle in the vein of my arm.
Yeah, a little pain, no big deal. I stayed focused on the task at hand. I pulled back the plunger to verify I was in the vein. This was important. I wasn’t looking for a subcutaneous shot. We’re talking IV drug use. I wanted a rush! To my delight I saw a tiny stream of my blood come up into the syringe and mix with the coke fluid. It was quite pretty, a mini typhoon of red. This meant a good “hit”. Gee, this is fun. Next, I pushed the plunger down and felt my heart begin to beat like crazy. Then my ears began to ring and my face felt numb. Music became real loud and began to flange. I felt dizzy and incredibly euphoric. It was like a chemical orgasm. I didn’t have the ability to process what was happening because it all happened so quick. I couldn’t say or do anything. All I could do was feel my changing feelings. The experience was so new and powerful, I felt overwhelmed. I guess I felt electrocuted. I gasped a bit for air and even my breathing sounded loud. Everything was more. More loud, more bright, all was more and viciously intense. This was like a roller coaster ride from hell. I went from one moment with a sober clear mind to the next moment being launched into the stratosphere.
This lasted 2-3 minutes. After the initial rush was gone I was left with only a strong cocaine high. I knew what I had just done was powerful and dangerous. I also knew that shooting too much of this shit could kill somebody. I just didn’t believe it would ever happen to me. I waited about 15 minutes and did it again. Then I did it again…
Later on shooting Cocaine-
Now that I have some experience and sobriety behind me I can process what happened. I realize I wasn’t getting high, I was dropping low, sinking like a lead balloon. Instead of being shot into the Stratosphere, I was taking a crash landing straight down the elevator to hell. I never felt a fiending or a craving as strong as I did after shooting cocaine. I could never get enough shots and it always ended to soon. I would start off my shooting event feeling comfortable and euphoric. Later, I would get so high that I thought I was going to die. I would pray to live, then forget about my prayer and shoot more. Sometimes the shots were so potent I grabbed my arm and squeezed as hard as I could to stop the rush. Pressing against the flesh around my large veins would stop the blood from flowing. Then after letting go of my arm, I would rush again, just as if I had just taken another shot.
Sometimes I would start shaking and fall off the chair while injecting, unable to speak. The impact of an injection would incapacitate my speech. The sound of blood rushing through my ears made everything sound misty, exaggerated, and flanged. To add drama to this already death-defying activity I was pouring sweat as if I had run a marathon. After a few shots I was shaking so badly I couldn’t get the needle in the vein. I would miss and still press the plunger down. Little bumps would form in the skin full of coke fluid. My whole arm ended up getting poked like a pincushion. Even though I was high, it still hurt to keep sticking myself. There was blood all over my shirt, dripping down my arms, on my pants, and on the chair. It was sick. The people who witnessed this thought I was insane. This turned off many normal people from both me and coke use.
Towards the end of my injection routine I would begin to see shadows of people who weren’t there. I heard whispering, walkie-talkies, and voices. Shadows would begin to move. I became paranoid and unable to enjoy my high. I would be totally tweaked and on edge. This was not my unique problem. It happened to other people who shot coke with me at the same high doses. At times I could swear that the police were outside the door just waiting to raid me. No matter, I would compose myself and use more coke until it all ran out. Even when it did run out, I couldn’t give up. I would scan the tables, the furniture, everything possible that might have coke “dust” laying on it. Then I would get on my knees, crawling across the carpet looking for more. This was called “carpet patrol” and was embarrassing. I knew even when I was doing it, that what I was doing, looked insane and felt insane. Still I felt compelled to look for more.
A day later I would recuperate and look in the mirror. I lost around 5lbs of muscle and looked like shit. I felt like shit. I guess it felt like the day after running a marathon and getting in a bar fight. I ended up losing my veins and damaging my heart. One section of nerves, which are supposed to trigger the heart muscle to contract don’t do that anymore.
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