Citation: SuperGirl. "Breathing? What? Hmm?: An Experience with Ecstasy (DXM?) (exp3696)". Erowid.org. Dec 25, 2001. erowid.org/exp/3696
I decided to roll one evening at a local bar... drum and bass night. The choons were pumpin', and I figured that my outlook could be enhanced with a bit of recreational seasoning.
I made the ghastly mistake of trusting a friend - against my own better judgement - when buying and using the e I sought that night. I recognised the proffered pill as being a 'White Clover', one of the pills on dancesafe.org's danger lists, and I said so. My friend quickly corrected me, saying that the pill I was buying was called 'Celtic Cross' (go figure), and was from eastern Canada (upon reflection, this should have made me MORE nervous, seeing as the only people from EC making pills are gangs, who don't give a shit what they put in raver bodies). He claimed it contained MDMA, MDA, and a little bit of ketamine.
Fair enough, thought I. I could dig a mellow high. I hadn't had any alcohol, so I reasoned that the slight downer effect of the ketamine would be safe enough. I trusted him, and so I bought the pill, bought a bottle of water, took the pill, drank the water, and sat back and waited to get high.
After an hour and twenty minutes, I knew that something was seriously wrong and I began to panic. My legs felt weak, my head felt a little swimmy, and noises seemed a bit too loud. People looked mean, and the music sounded like it was snarling at me specifically. I sat there freaking out quietly to myself, and then ran to the bathroom to make myself throw up. No pill residue. Shit, I'd already absorbed almost ALL of it. I felt disassociated and very very heavy. At this point, I knew I was dealing with DXM. First of all, I've done my homework and I know the textbook effects of DXM - secondly, it was what I had feared the pill was in the first place. Nothing like hindsight.
When I came out of the bathroom, my 'friend' was long gone. My boyfriend (who had decided to go sober, thank the Great Unnamed for blessings large and small... *genuflect*) took a long look at me and asked if I was ok. I explained what had happened as best I could with a tongue that felt about 8 sizes too big, and he called us a cab right away.
Back at his house, I felt steadily worse and worse. The fuzzy-headedness was gone, but my mind felt completely divorced from my body. I began to have difficulty breathing - that is to say I had no perceived difficulties with it, but I would occasionally forget to breath unless reminded - and my heart rate had slowed down until it was almost imperceptible. Because My body heated up alarmingly, but because of the DXM I was unable to sweat to cool off. I felt ill with heat, so my boyfriend undressed me and lay me on a bed with an open window over me until the sheets stopped smouldering around me. For some reason, I had asked him not to take me to the hospital. It seemed to make sense at the time, but I'm not sure what my reasoning was - fancy that. I was still compos mentis enough to remember to tell him what to do to help me and to take little sips of water to remain hydrated instead of gulping it down, but the rest of my mind was apparently on vacation. He told me he was prepared to overrule the no-emergency-room decision if my condition grew any worse.
The strangest of the sensations I experienced was the physical tracers. If I reached out to open a door, I could still feel my arm hanging at my side AND on the doorknob, AND every step in between reaching and grasping. It was really odd. Walking was the same (foot in the air, foot on the ground, foot just being a foot.. I felt like I had about twenty feet on each leg - a sensation I don't recommend), and I fell over a couple of times before I decided just to stay lying down.
At this point, I was no longer panicking or freaking out, even though my situation was much more dire than it had been at the bar. I felt like a disinterested party watching someone else flail about like a moron. Frankly, I was bored. Bored! My breathing failing, my body flailing, and my nervous system BAILING, and I was BORED! Jesus! I really wonder about people who do DXM recreationally. It was like being stuck on the Disneyland 'It's A Small World After All' ride for ALL ETERNITY. The prismatic rainbow edging on all inanimate objects around me failed to amuse, as did the strange and darksome visions in my head.
My poor sweetie stayed awake beside me all night making sure I was ok, and I just lay there with pupils the size of dinnerplates, staring at the wall and trying to remember to inhale. I eventually risked sleep 12 hours later, and woke up feeling not much different from when I had slept. I was disoriented, slack-jawed, and unable to make cause-and-effect relations with much success.
This dislocation and large-pupilledness went on for about 30 hours. I was unable to work, unable to socialise, and unable to do much but eat granola and watch 'Ranma 1/2' for an astonishing amount of time. I felt like someone had vaccumed out the inside of my skull and left nothing but cotton batting in return.
Scientific Conclusion: It sucked.
(And though you may have laughed while reading parts of this, that's just my writing style. It was a thoroughly wretched experience from start to beached-whale finish, and one that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.)
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