Citation: Tr3/comadose. "Suffocating on Oxygen: An Experience with Oxycodone (exp82266)". Erowid.org. Nov 15, 2015. erowid.org/exp/82266
My fight for my life, when it comes to drugs, started when I was about 12. I told a friend my mom was on percocet and he said it fucks you up and that I should take some. My mother caught me going into her purse and instead of being an adult about it, she gave a few to her 12-year-old son. I hate her for that. I would spend close to an hour in my room, crushing the 10/325s on my “Have a Snort, Cures What Ails you” mirror.
After years of recreational percocets, I was involved in a tragedy which left my entire right side broken and shattered as well as leaving me in a comatose state. I was sixteen when I awoke and was released from the hospitals. I began to see a pain management specialist within a week. I was so young that the doctor would not prescribe me anything that would make a difference. Two to three 5/325 oxycodone a day. After my second monthly visit, I had told him that I took about 20 extra doses in an attempt to gain a stronger prescription. He only got mad and told me to find another doctor.
It took me a few months to find a new doctor. In the meantime, I was being given percocet 10s (bananas) by my mother (from her prescription) and father (not knowing or caring at that point, where HE was getting them). I had done a generous amount of searching for a new doctor before I found my new one. Along with getting the narcotic from both my parents, I made numerous trips to the local ER for prescriptions for percocet and Fentanyl patches to hold me over until I got my new physician.
After a few months, I found a doctor in Belville, NJ. He was much more helpful, prescription wise, than anyone I had seen before. I ended up seeing him for more than a year. He increased my percocet to one 10/325 percocet every four hours and kept me on fentanyl. I was still complaining, regularly, but I had understood that my age was an issue so I didn’t push the issue.
I was reading the side-effects on the fentanyl box and saw the warning, “May cause serious, possibly FATAL breathing problems. If this occurs, contact your doctor IMMEDIATELY” That was when I first came up with the idea of telling him I felt like there was an anvil sitting on my chest. I said this to him at my next visit and he prescribed a different major narcotic painkiller. I gave that a little time but it still wasn’t too helpful. Sorry, but I can’t remember the name of the medication out of so many. My next appointment was the day after my 18th birthday. I went to see him and I was sat in his exam room. I spent the whole time trying to think of how I was gonna get him to give me something as strong a oxycontin.
I was going through the tv unit while my dad was sleeping one night and I found his stash. I poured the label-less prescription bottle out into my hand and I saw a rainbow of narcotic painkillers. I was holding multiple 5/335 Oxycodone, 10/325 Endocet (percocet/bananas), and 20mg 40mg & one or two 80mg oxycodone and Oxycontin. I took a select few Oxys. A few 20s, two 40s and an 80 trying to be slick, hoping he wouldn’t notice a few missing out of so many.
I was so high that whole week, I couldn’t move for almost two days. I was still a cripple then so it wasn’t out of the norm for me to stay in bed. Any pressure on my right leg was excruciating, then. My parents would come to my room every so often and ask if I needed anything so I was set. They didn’t think anything of the fact that I was speaking in slurred sentences and probably not making any sense whatsoever. I just lay on my bed, hardly able to breath, and feeling like I was melting away like “The Wicked Witch of the West”. I was as faded as a an erased essay. So high, that I couldn’t stand, speak, eat, drink, anything. All I could do was lie there, trying to keep my eyes open to watch tv.
I couldn’t even change the channel so I put MTV on and was the most content I remember feeling. The program I was watching was over so I tried to change the channel with no avail and an episode of “True Life” started. I had seen different episodes and didn’t like the show but then they said the title of that particular one. “True Life-I’m Hooked on Oxycontin”. WOW, that was one hell of a coincidence. I tried my hardest to watch the show but only retained 1/5 of what I saw. That night, I had a dream of myself and Oxycontin. As the future unfolded, I realized that my “dream” was a premonition but instead of heeding my own warnings, I just sniffed anything I could get my hands on.
Back to my life-changing doctor visit...He walked into the exam room and asked how I was doing with his Indian accent. The first words out of my mouth were, “I’m in a lot of pain. I NEED something stronger! I’m 18 as of yesterday. Can you please give me something to help?” I was standing, looking down into his eyes. Then he replied, “Happy birthday....Well, there is Oxycontin.”
I was jumping in my own skin but managed to kept my composure. That was when they only made 20, 40, and 80mgs. He said he’d start me on 40s cause 40s were the weakest. Being prescribed oxycontin was all I could talk about with everyone for the next two weeks. I walked out of the office and called my father at work. Within 15min he was there to pick me up and get the prescription filled.
I then had enough of a tolerance for pain to get out of my house and hang out with old friends. I was giving them pills for free until I found how much they sold on the street for. People in the white suburbs will pay whatever you charge to give them legal heroin. It's amazing that the equivalent of the 40s or 80s would get me $1000+ but I took their money, still. Other kids my age, in the area, had just started dying of overdoses so it was a little rough at first but time and ignorance washed away the fear. They would take the percocet but not the oxys, thinking there was a difference. Actually, the percs have more drugs in them than the oxys. percocet=acetaminophen + oxycodone hydrochloride
Oxys=oxycodone hydrochloride. Oxys are just more. I was still small time, only getting a few hundred dollars a script, if that. A close friend had stolen a fentanyl patch from me around then that ended up being the end of our friendship, one of many instances.
I was back on the fentanyl patches when I was, again, reading the side-effects insert. I tried picturing how it worked and I came up with an idea....The medication on the patch is absorbed through the skin. What would happen if I heated the patch WHILE I HAD IT ON? I worried about melting the plastic but...what the fuck? Why not? I placed the patch on my arm, heated a small metallic lighter, and rubbed it across the patch’s backing. It made me feel “soupy” and lethargic but only lasted about an hour. I remembered hearing stories about people chewing the patches and dying right there so I asked myself, this isn’t that great, what am I doing wrong?
Then I came up with the idea to place the patch over my heart. I tried the same thing with the lighter and I got knocked on my ass. The feeling overcame me. I couldn’t move or talk, had no gag reflex at all, no feeling anywhere, and my head was pounding (but a warm, fuzzy pounding that felt like an expensive massage). What I felt is almost indescribable, almost. I could barely think or concentrate on a thought but I remember thinking, “I’m gonna die. This is it. At least I’ll finally be rid of this pain. Here I come.” I said a prayer and waited. Waited to see my best friend again, waited to see my grandmother, waited to leave all the people on this earth that turned against me. I closed my eyes, stopped trying to move and just thought. What’s it gonna be like? Will I find nirvana? Will I meet Kurt Cobain (lead vocals-Nirvana)? I wasn’t trying to cling to life. I wanted to go. I wished I’d go. I thought myself to sleep and woke more than a day later. Parents still didn’t suspect anything...
I studied my experience when I woke and I saw the walls of my room. At first, I thought I went to hell. My house wasn’t much different LOL. If I could feel something as godly as the fentanyl overdose, I had to have come close to death once again. The same thought wouldn’t leave my mind, God is a sadistic 5-year-old, holding a microscope to ants and WE are the ants! That was when I realized I had some type of mental problem. Forget doctors, I decided to try doing enough drugs to wipe my memory. It worked to a point but not in the way I was trying. That will come up later as a reason from me to cut down.
Over time, I perfected they art of discussion with pain specialists. I learned about all possible pain killers I could be prescribed, memorized what I considered to be the negative side effects (to be able to talk my way out of medication and my way into any medication I wanted), and went to my doctors prepared. I was taking much more than prescribed on a daily basis, as well as “gettin paid.” Things were going great. I had obtained a wealthy customer base (40 oxys would get me a few grand at the beginning of a script), no problems with my doc. When I’d run out, all I had to do was ask “Mom or Dad” to spot me till my next one.
I soon got greedy. I had a legitimate excuse the first time I called to move my appointment to an earlier date. Then I’d run out and do it again and again, coming up with a new excuse each time. Then one visit I was told I needed to stop moving my times or I’d get fired as a patient. I agreed, got my prescriptions and headed to my hometown to hang with a girl. I got up there and she said she was doing her hair and to wait a little while. As the night lead on, she canceled, I found some kids to drink with, called the cops to stop a rape, and ended the night in a jail cause a few cops pretended they couldn’t see my prescription labels. I had four Suboxone on me, to get my parents clean, and I was given a bail of $50,000 without 10%.
In jail, I got numbers. If you want to STOP people from selling drugs, don’t lock them in a room with people that do it on a bigger scale. I came out with cheaper prices and a grin on my face. That was the beginning of my own heroin diary.
The case is still ongoing...P.S. if the court would rather let a 13-year-old get raped than someone call for help, even thought they have drugs on them, you’ll be seeing me on the news.
I was then at a point in my life where I was suicidal. I had been in enough pain already, for this life, and I refused to attempt anything that could leave me alive and in pain, once again. I had heard a story that someone was shot in the head and survived so that was out. Cutting my wrists hurt so no. All I could think of was overdosing.
THIS IS REAL...I was buying rocks of cocaine (not crack, coke rocks the size of ping -pong balls). Cocaine was my first attempt. I was broke so I borrowed the money from dad. I sold it for a few weeks to get enough money to get a large quantity for myself. An 8-ball turned into a quarter, 1/4 to an OZ (ounce), 1 to 2, and 2-2 ˝. I sold an O to pay my dad back and held the ounce and a half till I felt I was ready to “go”. I spent close to an hour crushing up the more than 12 coke rocks. I was sniffing RAILS. I got as high as I could before I even reached the half way point. I was literally bouncing off the walls LMAO. Then I reached a point when I felt I was almost sober, kinda like drinking yourself sober. I must have had enough to equal one rock left when I got tunnel vision. I railed the rest assuming it would be enough to push me past that point when tunnel vision turned into NO vision. I spent the night fading in and out of consciousness. I remember waking and trying to pee. That was a goal that took me multiple tries and almost two full days to achieve.
I don’t wanna say I thought I was invincible, but that was my 3rd near death experience and I was still “here”. I fell into a deep depression and began planning my next attempt about week later. This time, the poison I picked was what cost me nothing, my prescription of 90 80mg Oxycontin. I sold close to half, gave some to my family, and sniffed away. I must have sniffed that synthetic heroin for 6 hours until I blacked out. I counted how many were missing since the last time I gave any out and I added the total to 32. 32 80mg oxycontin and I AM STILL HERE. I tried shooting a brick of heroin I got from someone I met in jail but, guess what? I’ve finally decided that I will never be able to kill myself unless I hit the lottery so I’m done trying.
Bail was posted six days later and I was “free” but without any medication. I went to my doctor’s office the next day and tried to explain my situation. My normal physician wasn’t in so I got to see the boss. Just my luck. He kept saying he wouldn’t gimme anything, even though I showed him police documents. Finally he said that maybe I should seek a new physician and I told him I’d do that as long as he’d write me another prescription.
That was the beginning of another journey for treatment. Just this time, I had the art down pat. I knew how to find a doctor that would give me what I wanted. The only problem was that none of the doctors I looked at took my insurance so I had to start paying cash. I just used the insurance to pay for the thousands in scripts every month.
My family is hooked on painkillers. Over $200,000 has gone to a drug dealer instead of necessities like heat and the mortgage payment. Things have gotten so bad, that my father tried to kill himself by overdosing on Xanax, last week. Painkillers saved me from the excruciating pain I was in, but then morphed from savior to addiction with very few signs. Whether you notice or not, opiates changes the very fabric of who you are. It doesn’t matter if the synthetic, organic, or prescribed. Doctors see addiction as a risk of the medication. The possibilities are weighed and you are monitored if you are then prescribed a narcotic as strong as Oxycontin. Being good at the art of lying may help you for a little while but, in the end, the lack of honesty is only hurting yourself.
This is all my firsthand experience. Please, I beg you, take heed and care for yourself and/or others around you if possible. And for your god’s sake, don’t support your child’s drug habit. You would be starting them on a path that they will regret and come to despise you for. Be the adult. Many friend’s lives have been taken due to this drug. The fact that its made by people who are allowed doesn’t change the dangers. An Oxycontin is the same as 2 folds of Heroin. Heroin is more potent but doesn’t last as long. That is the only difference! In my opinion if you take Oxycontin, you will reach a point when you turn into an addict. There is not a chance, there’s a guarantee.
Take care of yourself and those close to you, maybe even a stranger.....
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