Citation: Never. "Golden Years: An Experience with Oxycodone & Cocaine (exp61854)". Erowid.org. Oct 28, 2007. erowid.org/exp/61854
This all started during the summer of '05. I was completely and utterly addicted to coke during that summer, and after spending nearly $700 on an ounce that dissappeared in a week, I knew that I needed to quit. August of that year, my friend, we'll call him Hunts, came down from Boston University for his summer vacation. Apparently, he had been using heavily as well. In order to help myself deal with the incessant cravings, I called my friend Joe looking for some norcos or klonopin. He was out, but he had some oxy, and at $10 for a 40 mg pill, it was cheap and affordable. I bought two to start. He told me to scrape the coating off and snort 'em, which I did. I felt totally collected and invincible, like I could walk out into the street and stop a speeding car with my hand. I kicked myself for ever doing coke in the first place. That night, I snorted both pills in about an hour and a half.
The next day I hit Joe up again and asked if I could get a couple more. When he told me that he has 220 left in his script for that month, I cheered and bought ten. That night, with my coke withdrawal a fleeting memory, I joined my brother B and we drove down to a party being held by some friends. We were both pretty stoned, as we were both still green at that point. When we got to the party, I asked the owner of the house, named G, if I could do up a line. When he saw the oxy, he just about exploded with happiness. He asked me how much one would be, and I told him that it would run him about $30 per. I was hoping that the price would be way too high for him and deter him from buying any, but to my surprise, he produced $120. Little did I know that this small transaction would change my life forever.
The next day, B and I went back to Joes and bought another 12 oxys with G's money. We each did a 40 and I headed out to G's house again. I asked him if he knew if anybody else would be interested in buying, and he gave me a hearty yes. For the rest of that summer, I would buy 20 40mg pills for $200 and resell half of them for $30 apiece. Not only was I able to do however many oxys I wanted, but I was actually making money off of it, which I usually spent on more oxys for me and my brother.
Cut to January of next year. I was up to about 200-300mg a day, and B wasn't too far behind. Joe was running out of his script in about two weeks now, and for the first time, I experienced withdrawal. Complete and utter pain. I had been using upwards of 100mg daily for about 5 months now, so when I ran out, it hit me like a train. I couldn't function for over a week. I would rarely eat, as anything I consumed was almost immediately evacuated back out again. Sleeping was next to impossible. I would shuffle off to sleep, only to be awoken minutes later, my body dripping with sweat and my body crying out for drugs. I had the most horrible diarrhea, and many an hour was spent sitting on the toilet crying and spasming while I spewed stomach acid out of my mouth.
As soon as Joe got his script refilled, I bought half of 'em immediately and snorted two. While explaining my two week absence to Joe, he mentioned that I would only have to do 40mg or so each time if I slammed (injected) it. I have a horrible fear of needles and at first declined, but when B offered to inject it for me, I hesitantly accepted.
Intravenous (IV) injection of crushed pills/tablets can be very dangerous due to unknown substances, binders, and fillers present. Any substance injected directly into the blood stream should be very pure. Clean needles and medically appropriate techniques should be used to avoid serious injury or death.]
Joe could not be more right. Not only did I need to do less, but the feeling came on immediately, the high slamming into me like a wave that refused to subside. I quickly lost my fear, traded my half cc syringe in for a 3 cc one (thank you needle exchange) and began shooting up three or four times daily. It only took about a month for me and B to get back up to our usual dosage of 300mg a day, and what with our combined use and countless hungry customers calling, Joe began to run out early again. This time I found another connect, who could provide me with 80mg pills for $30 and our habit continued, unabashed.
I believe it was in August of 06 that it all came crashing down. We had traveled to a party in Irvine that night, and upon entering I immediately started pushing. After selling what I wanted to let go of, B and I sat down and began doing lines. I hadn't had time to go to the needle exchange that week, and my needle had become dull and painful to use. I used some of my profit to buy a gram of blow, and I mixed the whole thing into the pile of powder that was already there.
Evidently, some partygoers arrived late, and more than one of them was a bit miffed when I declined to sell more of my supply. One of these people, a kid of about 18 or 19, became belligerent and began telling me tall tales of all the drugs he'd done and the ridiculous amounts he had taken at once. I was very high on oxy, but the coke was very pure, and I could feel an ugly energy coursing through my brain. Coke had always made me sort of impatient and petty, sometimes downright mean, but it had been a long time since I'd used, and the high must have been more evident than I predicted. I remember saying 'You're a big boy, act like one,' before cutting him out a huge line.
The kid looked taken aback, but he had a reputation to upkeep. He snatched the straw I handed him and did the whole line, sharing it between nostrils. For some reason, this infuriated me. I was planning on him pussing out, but now that he'd done the line, it was like he was challenging me. I quickly cut out another, much to Bs' protest, and practically threw the straw at the kid. Again, I could sense some hesitation in him, but he regained himself and once again snorted the entire line. Just as quickly, I cut out another.
Stupid move. When you put two ultra competitive males blitzed on coke together, expect bad results. I could tell that he didn't want to do the third line. I was sure that his nostrils were clogged with powder, that he would concede defeat after that second line. I was wrong. The kid began to do up the line, but halfway through, he stopped. He sneezed, spraying the rest of the rail all over the table. I went to protect the rest of my pile from more errant sneezes, but when the kid began to cough up blood, I knew that my drugs would be the least of my worries. Apparently, this kid was an avid oxy abuser, but he had never used coke before. Turns out he was allergic. Very allergic. It took three of us to get him into the bathroom as he was convulsing and vomiting all over. After cleaning him up a little, I threw him into my car and rocketed over to the hospital.
I nearly drove my car straight through the emergency room door in my haste. I got out and pulled the kid out of the backseat. I threw his limp body onto the ground and jumped across the hood to make my speedy escape. As I ran to the car, my stomach lurched and I fell to the ground, vomit exploding out of my mouth. My head began to swim, and I swayed there for a few moments before crumbling to the floor, hitting my head on my side mirror as I went down.
Overdose. I had no idea how much I had done, but B later estimated it to be upwards of 450mg. The coke had kept the oxy high retrained, but as it wore off, the opiate high began to kick it into high gear. My diaphram had collapsed, crushing my lungs. It was lucky that I was close to the emergency room at the time. After a dose of anti-narcotics, I woke up immediately on the table. I sat up and immediately began throwing up before I passed out again. It was determined by the staff that I had driven the kid to the ER before I collapsed myself. Apparently, I had saved both of our lives. The kid couldn't remember much of what had happened that week, let alone what had happened that night, and in my fear, I went with a very tame version of the story, keeping that nights events to that of just another unlucky partygoer. My brothers statement is probably what kept me from getting in real trouble, as he gave the police almost the exact same story that I did.
I may be stubborn, but I'm not stupid. I got off very easy for what I had done, and although I feel awful for almost killing another human being, I would never had quit if this event had not occurred. I was placed into a rehab program by my parents after leaving the ICU, and I've been clean for some time now. I won't go into what the withdrawals were like again, but rest assured, they came back with a vengence. Now most of my time is spent trying to keep off oxy, trying to keep busy. I do a lot of volunteering now, partly as a way of keeping my mind off of drugs, but mostly as a form of repentance for wasting my life for two years.
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