Citation: Lane. "Free, Warm, Content, and Relaxed: An Experience with Heroin (exp64944)". Erowid.org. Oct 22, 2007. erowid.org/exp/64944
The dose described in this report is very high, potentially beyond Erowid's 'heavy' range, and could pose serious health risks or result in unwanted, extreme effects. Sometimes extremely high doses reported are errors rather than actual doses used.]
||(tar / resin)
In the spring of 1998 I had a pretty big habit with pain pills that had been going on for about 4 years. Due to lower back problems, I had been prescribed 8 Lorcet '10-650' tablets daily for the better of 2 1/4 years. Previous prescriptions include Darvocet and Percodan. I was no stranger to addiction, as I had been a chronic alcoholic, drinking very irresponsibly from the first time I imbibed away from home. I think I was about 13 when that started. Because of overuse, I developed a tolerance to opioids from the get go. So when my roommate at the time found a very good deal on some black tar heroin, $30/eighth-ounce, believe it!!! I wasn’t too concerned with the possibility of dying from overdose if I decided to partake.
This was not the substance for my roomie, as it made him sick and he didn’t care much about it. I, however, was a different story. I had never “shot” any drug before except a haphazardly try at dissolving up Lorcet one afternoon. I did not know that acetaminophen, 650 mg. in each tablet, would not dissolve in water. [Erowid Note:
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.]
My roommate had a little experience, his brother in law having been a junkie for 25 years, and proceeded in informing me of the mechanics of shooting up. I was intrigued at the time but in hindsight wish it never would have happened.
At about 8:00 pm, a tiny ball, a tad bit bigger than a pin head is the average dose but I used a little more due to tolerance, of the gummy, vinegar-like smelling heroin was put on a spoon with a syringe full of water. This was heated and stirred with the plunger of the needle just to point of boiling, forming a light-brown liquid. My roommate then took a small piece of cigarette filter and put it in into the solution. This was used to filter out the impurities when all the liquid was sucked through it into the needle. I have since found that cotton is preferred, as the cigarette filter may have insoluble materials that can accidentally get injected and cause problems. The needle was then turned upside down, tapped to make sure all the air bubbles rose to the top, and the air was pushed out. I was then instructed to put my arm flat down on the kitchen counter and make a fist. My veins were apparent on my inner arms so I didn’t have to “tie off”. The needle was then put into my vein, with hardly a notice, just a pinch, and blood was drawn back into the needle and mixed with the heroin. This is to make sure the needle is in a vein and not under the skin (skin-popping) or in a muscle (intramuscular).
The first dose of narcotics ever to go in my arm gave me an almost immediate, exhilarated sense of euphoria. Of Warmth. Of release of inhibitions and apprehensions. I felt “free”. That one word is the best I can sum it up. As stated, I was not in unfamiliar territory as far as the basic effects of opiates, but the “rush” that injecting heroin gave was orgasmic, much, much stronger than the “come-on” effect that pills provide. The rush subsides after a minute or two and flows into a warm, very gratifying state of relaxation and contentment, kind of like the feeling you have when you’re young and your parents return after being away a long time. That type of reassuringness is what I feel when I shoot heroin. I have read a lot about people describing it as being wrapped in a warm blanket. And I would have to agree with this also. Many people at this stage fall asleep, as I have, but I usually try to stay awake and enjoy it as much as I can. At other times, actually more often than not, I become speedy and talkative, boring some people to death with non stop chatter.
My friend and roommate Jim, despite ill-fated previous attempts, decided to do a shot with me. This time was no different. He held out for a while but eventually had to find his way to bathroom rather quickly to throw up. He remained sick for the duration of the drug’s effect and it forced him into bed. I puke sometimes but it’s more of just emptying my stomach than actually “getting sick” cause I feel fine immediately afterward.
Now that I knew how to properly inject, I felt somewhat privileged and powerful, in a sickening kind of way. Jimmy was sick, and I had an entire 8 ball of junk to myself. My first time shooting myself was actually pretty easy. Same procedure, except I notice that when I withdrew the needle that blood would flow out. I quickly learned to keep an extra rag handy. I had it mastered after 3 or 4 times. In the past, on the Lorcet day with needles, I had failed to draw blood back into the syringe. Now I understood and about each 30 minutes to ¾ hour I continued to shoot up, sometimes small hits, other times real large hits, as I was trying to capture the ultimate body orgasm.
This went on for about 10 hours or so. I was over-whelmingly content with the whole scene: A late, warm spring night in a dim, wooden-paneled living room lit only by the glow of the television and a small burning candle that sit, flickering on the floor next to me. My friend’s dog, who I’d been watching, was sleeping in the chair, and my daughter safe in her bedroom, sound asleep. I simply could not get enough of that simple scene. I just felt so damn free, warm, and at ease, that the entire world could have gone on without me and I would be perfectly fine with that. I understood everything but yet I didn’t. I had been high on opioids umpteen thousand times in the past but this was different. To this day I don’t understand it. My wife had left me and my 3 year old daughter about 3 months previous so you would expect that things wouldn’t be all that great quite yet. But here I sit pleasantly grinning cheek to cheek, bathing in the seemingly unending euphoria emanating within me.
After injecting about 9 or 10 times throughout the night, I was quite high but found that I wasn’t getting the big rush anymore. In fact, I was feeling pretty speedy. It was about 7:30 a.m. now and the sun was up and so was my daughter so we decided to take the dog for a walk. I got my daughter ready and leashed up the dog and went out the front door. It was a brisk spring morning, about 65 degrees with a very slight warm breeze. The sun was poking its way between the houses and lightly waving trees of the old neighborhood where I lived. It was seemingly the most fantastic spring morning since the creation of the universe. I had dropped acid several times in the past and had a lot of meaningful, spiritual trips before, but with heroin, it felt somewhat like one of those trips, but without the “feeling at one with everything” feeling or the grittiness that some LSD trips carry. Everything was smooth. And perfectly OK. Beyond OK. I was a perfectly functioning, well-oiled part in the big machine of life. I thought about the entire world, the good, the bad, the highs, and the lows-all of it. I could easily accept every part of it without the slightest bit of a negative gist. This was one special morning.
We lived on a corner so we crossed the street and made our way down the short length side of a city block to the next street, which was a major thoroughfare through our neighborhood (downtown is only about 3 miles away). Waiting at the crossing light, I watched all the cars zip by thinking about the masses of different people with all of their gazillion different tasks and destinations. I thought about the stresses of daily living, of running around trying to meet deadlines and the tension of ritualistic living as being a part of today’s humanity requires. I wondered how it would be if everybody in the world could experience what I was enjoying right now. There would definitely be no aggression or fighting. People would tend to be more empathetic and understanding of each other and would be more willing to help one another. It doesn’t make sense why something such as heroin (and other chemicals), which can bring so much joy, is regarded as a definite no-no. I guess big brother feels that we don’t know how to take care of ourselves adequately, to limit what we do when it comes to ingesting God’s gifts of pleasure inducers. The light changed to green but it could have stayed red forever for all I cared. I was happy just standing at the corner contemplating all of life.
We crossed the street and made our way down the next short length city block. At the next corner, we crossed left and on the north side of the street was a 3 story, block-long grade school. Kids were going to school, some running and playing, others just lulling along with their books and backpacks. I thought about all of these kids and their lives and the twisted world in which they had to learn to function as they matured. I wished there was some type of way for them to grow up into a state of being not unlike one that I was living right now. I’m not wishing children to start using drugs but just to feel as I was. I felt so free and part of, but yet away from, all of these various aged children and assorted parents this morning.
A lot of kids would approach to stoop down and pet the dog, “Magic”, who was a very easy going, shiny black cocker spaniel without a smidgen of violent tendency in her. I could literally feel the kindness and delight coming from the younger children regarding the dog. It wasn’t psychedelic (in the sense of the word) like the phenomena you get with acid, but I was very empathetic when others were near. A group of older kids on bikes and skateboards were screwing around, darting in front of traffic, and carrying on. They were yelling various smart-ass things to me but I was light years away from the point where I would have to be in order to get upset at them. One boy would come up and play with the dog and utter some meaningless things which I can no longer recall. I was just smiling and joking around right back at him and the others. The buzz I had felt like more than a buzz. It felt like I was literally more “alive” than living. I felt as if I could do no wrong and my choice in word usage was the absolute paramount selection of what could be used in my communication. I encountered other adults and although I didn’t feel intellectually advanced to anyone, I felt like I was in a superior place where any one of them could go if they wished.
By the time we got to the end of the block the school was on, the bell had rung and all of kids were inside and the extra cars had left. It was very quiet except for the birds and the distant sounds of cars from a block away. I felt a type of loneliness but not in a negative way. It was more like a necessary time that existence itself needed for recharging.
We rounded the corner and walked past the alley to the next corner, and we were back on the major street that handled the biggest chunk of traffic in the area. Cars whizzed by, some louder than others, and an occasional semi blared by. Usually I silently cursed these giant behemoths with their super loud engines and suffocating exhaust fumes, but now I thought about the necessity of purpose of these trucks and I remained peaceful. In the state I was in, I was rationally able to see the fact that there needs to be negative factors in the world, no matter what the case may be, that the final result is always intended to be positive. I watched all the different people drive by and I smiled, knowing that some of them are contently happy just going about their business, whatever that may be. I also thought about the ones in negative moods, and then I silently said a prayer, asking God to give each of them just a small part of what I was experiencing. As high as I was, a miniscule fraction would be sufficient to brighten even the most pessimistic person’s day.
I hold my daughter’s hand as we are gently pulled along by Magic. It feels as if I am gliding along on a cushion of air and the heroin keeps me from feeling the usual sharp, stabbing, nagging pain that pulsates at my hip line when I walk. Heroin, as a painkiller, is superior to any that I have taken. The dog somehow darts back and forth, zigzagging each side of the sidewalk, smelling and inspecting every possible thing along the way within the distance that the leash allows. Humorously, I pictured myself doing the same thing within the confines of a pharmacy.
We’re halfway down the block, the lights turn red at both ends, so we jaywalk across the street. If alone, I would’ve probably crossed nonchalantly, taking my own sweet time. But I had my daughter and the dog with me, so as I usually do while under the influence, I acted responsibly, more so for the sake of them, and hastily got across the street. The exertion is almost pleasurable, in a way. Continuing in the same direction, we arrived at the next corner, crossed at the green light, and proceeded to turn right. I could see my house a short block length away, across the street.
Upon returning home, I sat down on the old couch that I had put on our front porch. I gazed at the neighborhood scene, which is usually kind of run down, but saw the beauty in everything. I believe that heroin was allowing me to see (per se) the life force of everything around me. Things did not pulse and glow like they do when dosing on psychedelics, but the essence phenomena of everything’s life-force is felt, and the awareness is just as strong.
All in all, our little trip around the block took about 45 minutes or so with the stops that we would frequently make, for whatever reason. It was but a simple little walk around the block but I felt as if I had accomplished something fantastic. As if I had just made my first journey outside the womb and was discovering a new world. The same world that I knew, and a brand new world, both at the same time. It would seem unlikely that heroin, which usually just knocks people out, would have these effects, but this was, in fact, what I experienced.
My next-door neighbor came out of his front door and commented on the nice morning we were having. I responded by agreeing with him, and although I don’t recall what was said, continued to talk to him for about 10 minutes. I had to be careful in what I said, as I felt that I could freely discuss whatever topic come to mind. I had experienced this “free form” mode of communication from snorting cocaine in the past, so I was experienced enough to not disclose anything damaging. But I still had the feeling that I could say anything my heart desired.
My daughter came out of the house and started whining about being hungry so we went inside and I made her a bowl of cereal. I had lately been in the process of breaking her of her habit of eating in the bedroom in front of her television but I felt just too damn good to argue right now. She sat on the edge of the bed with a TV tray and watched cartoons while she ate. At this time I was intently watching her when a euphoric, amazing sense of awe came over me. I was very deeply realizing that I had created her and damn it, I had done something right in my life. I started crying and quickly walked away as I didn’t want her to worry, as she does if it appears something is wrong with me. I had an incredible sense of pure gratitude as I sit in the living room contemplating what to do now. I realized that it had been a while since my last dose of junk. Now that it was daytime, I would have to be very careful in shooting up, maybe I would do it in the bathroom.
I sat on the toilet and prepared everything and I was just getting ready to inject when I noticed that I was tracking up my left arm pretty bad. I would later find out that injecting in the exact same spot will minimize the bruising and number of marks. I inserted the needle and pulled blood out but the needle slipped out of my arm. When I tapped it again to push out any air, I accidentally shot a heroin/blood mixture all over the ceiling. I reinserted the needle but found it had to tell if I was in a vein as the heroin was already mixed with my blood. I had to guess and ended up shooting this dose under my skin. There was no rush as the heroin would take a while to be absorbed. This was OK as I wasn’t getting much of a rush from mainlining anyway. I cleaned the blood from the ceiling and went back out into the living room.
As I sit, warm and relaxing “mini-waves” of euphoria came over me. I was getting sleepy as I had been awake for quite a long time now. Luckily, my roommate was awakening and was amazed to find that I had been up shooting all night long. He commented on the tracks that I had developed on my left arm. It was warm enough to wear short sleeves but it looked as if I would be wearing long sleeves for the next week or so. Plus, I would simply start using the veins in my feet.
Jim said that if I wished to lie down to get some sleep that he would happily watch my daughter while I slept. I lay back on the couch and closed my eyes and felt extremely content and relaxed, and fell into a half dream/awake state that was almost psychedelic. Looking back, I never did fully sleep that day and continued to shoot more heroin about every 3 or 4 hours until I went to bed that night.
When I awoke the following day I immediately cooked up and shot a batch of H but found that the rush was nowhere near as strong as the first shot the day before. I decided that after this heroin was gone that I would not be doing this on a regular basis as I seemed to grow accustomed to the effects rather quickly.
Over the next 2 days I shot on and off and finished the entire 8 ball of junk. I had plenty of Lorcet available, which I used to help come down from the heroin, which helped immensely with any withdrawals that I would have gone through. I had gone through pretty nasty withdrawal effects from the Lorcet in the past so I was not unfamiliar with narcotic withdrawal.
I never did score that large amount of heroin again but did purchase smaller amounts on several different occasions. I found that the normal price was extremely inflated compared to what my roommate had gotten, and I feel that this in itself is what has stopped me from becoming a full blown junkie over the years. I can easily understand the attraction that this drug has for some people and the hold it gets on others.
These days, I don’t conscientiously seek it out because it will not have an effect in me. Over the years, due to my spinal disorder, I have become dependent on various narcotic painkillers, and now take methadone, as all others have ceased to work, and methadone blocks heroin’s action. If it weren’t for this, I highly question my ability to stay away from heroin.
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