Friday, January 06, 2006

"Trip" to the ER

Is it me? Or were all creative writing teachers in high school hot? I always fell for them. Was it their deep intellect that went beyond numbers and figures? And believe me, their figures were nice. Was it their romantic side spewing out – believing every word as she says, “Where for art thou?” Except, she’d be directing it to Romeo. For the love of God—half these teachers weren’t even considered ‘hot’ by any means if you were to see them in a grocery store or any public place. I was in awe with their minds. Wow. I never thought the day would come when I would ever say that.

Okay, back then, everyone and anyone was smarter than me. I was too stoned to notice. My whole memory of high school was a complete blur. Priorities remained in the dime bag we smoked before school, and the bell that rang at 3pm. That was it. If we were lucky, we’d be scramming down the school’s lawn to cut out at noon and go to a friend’s house to party.

“Debbie……….Debbie?.........Debbie!!!” My teacher shouted, as I drifted off in some daydream, imagining myself in some janitor’s closet having sex with Miss. L.
“Personification.”
“Huh?”
“Personification!!!”
“What?”

“What…does…it…mean?” Miss. L asked, as she gritted her teeth.
“Person on vacation?”
“No!...See me after class! This is ridiculous!”
She said, as she threw her book down on the desk, frustrated that I had no interest in her teaching. But I did...didn’t I? I had an interest in ‘her’.

The teacher’s aide leered at me; staring at my every move. She was on to me. Mrs. W was more of a 60’s child. She always came to class wearing a long flowing dress, with tons of flower print on it. Her jewelry was custom made, from turquoise stones to American Indian designs. When she was upset or angry at one of us, she would flip her long blonde hair constantly, stuttering her words as she tried to get them out.

For some strange reason, I started feeling my body convulse. I wasn’t sure what was going on with me. My heart was racing so fast, that you could actually see it through the vein of my neck. What was going on with me? Was I dying? Was my pot laced? I had no clue. I was scared. I was also scared of anyone finding out. How do I get help? My body started jolting now—it was obvious to everyone in the classroom that there was some sort of problem going on.

“Umm, w-w-w-why don’t y-y-y-you come with me.” Mrs. W said, as she flipped her hair away from her face. She took me outside the classroom to talk to me in the hallway. I saw my own reflection in her eyeglasses, wondering how red my own eyes were.

“You know Deb, I’ve b-b-been where you are. I’ve experienced much more than you think. N-n-n-now tell me what you’re on.”

Scared and nervous as hell to even admit I was smoking pot before school, I was more scared of dying in the hallways. I quickly grabbed the bag of pot that my friends gave to me and handed it to Mrs. W. I always offered to carry it. She kept looking at me still.

“Is that it? Just pot? You’re not on anything else?”
“Umm…no…that’s it.”
I said, now scared to death that it was in fact laced.
“Okay, let’s go to the nurse.”
“No! I can’t! My mother will find out---I’m scared!”
“Don’t worry. She won’t find out.”
She assured me. I found this odd, but relieved in a way.

Sitting in the nurse’s office, I overheard the teacher’s aide and the nurse whispering to one another about what happened. Their whispers sounded like ten thousand people at once. I heard the kids in the hallway passing by. It sounded so loud, and so overwhelming that I thought I was imagining their echoing voices. There was this tall, silver procedure-like lamp near the window. The neck of the lamp was adjustable so you could bend it to any position you wanted. The more I stared at this lamp, the more it moved and danced around, as though it had a life of its own. The fricken lamp is dancing! What is wrong with me? Why are they taking so damn long—I’m dying ova’ here! No one cares. It felt like years before they came back in.

“Here, drink this.” The nurse said, with a disappointed look on her face as she handed me a dixie cup full of orange juice. This will bring up your sugar levels and possibly calm you down. She took her stethoscope and listened to my heart. She took my pulse and immediately said, “You gotta call her mother--her heart rate is over 200!”

They spoke to my mother and told her she had to take me to the hospital. They sat me on one of those disgusting vinyl beds behind a curtain and shut the lights off. They wanted me to calm down. I felt my chest. My heart felt like it was popping out. It felt like an engine running—that’s how fast it was beating.

“Deb? What are you doing here?” My friend Karen said, as she pulled the curtain away from the wall.
“I smoked some bad pot—I think it was laced, and now my heart rate is over 200.” I said, trying to grasp another breath. Talking took all the energy out of me.
“Wow. I’m just here because I want to go home. I’m playing sick.” She said to me as she put her hand on my chest to feel for herself.
“Oh my God! That’s freaky.”

Great. Now I was more scared than ever. My mother is going to freak out when she walks in and punish me for the next forty years of my life. To my surprise, she walked in, rubbed my back and asked if I was okay. Was I hallucinating now? Is she not reprimanding me for smoking pot? This was very odd, and I was suspicious of her calm demeanor. She’s probably going to let me have it once we got in the car. We drove up to the emergency room which was about twenty minutes from where the school was. I later found out that the pot that I smoked had been laced with PCP. The nurses advised my mother to remain calm in case my heart rate would rise. They didn’t want her overreacting while my heart rate was that extreme. This, being the reason for her 'calmness'.

Till this day, I still remember that feeling. It was the most awful feeling in the world. I think it was a blessing in disguise that I went through that. It made me scared of any type of drug out there. It also made me very upset that you really don’t know what you’re getting yourself into when you buy a bag of pot. I bought it from a ‘trusted friend’. While marijuana is still illegal, anyone could throw anything in there. The only trusted person to get pot from is your pharmacist. Good luck with that. I’ll stick to my wine.

31 comments:

marcy_peanut said...

Luckily for me, I hate pot, and I don't drink. Call me a bore, but that's not quite it. I was born with an imagination that was always going 110 miles per hour in a 25MPH zone. Never needed drugs. Actually, I've always felt that anything mind altering inhibited my creativity. But that's just me.

I was crazy in love with a teacher of mine in Art School. Crazy in Love.

Moreove, I've always gone for the mind over everything else. No good mind, no good conversation, to me that's a bore. I love a good mind. Then the eyes, hands, and lips. I also go for Jewish women, because I have a 'nose' thing. Can't explain it.

I also have a thing for Shane, but we know that already.

Do I winn come chocolate 'cause I'm the first one to comment??

marcy_peanut said...

Do I winn come chocolate 'cause I'm the first one to comment??


please excuse the typos, I don't have my glsasses on.

Prata said...

Now _that_ is a good picture. Of course I like manga and anime. ^_^

I collect the stuff...apparently I have a problem lol

My fascination is eyes though. I also look at brain, eyes, black hair, on down the line. The more canted a person's eyes and the thinner they are, the happier I am. I obviously have a thing for asian chicks.

~Deb said...

Marcy: Nothing wrong with a nice Jewish woman. I have no preference…and believe me, the teacher that I was gaga over was over 40 yrs old (me being 16) and she was short, with a bob-like hair cut, and very average looking. Not a ‘head turner’ per se, but there was just something about her. She ended up dating some guy from the board of education and got prego. I was out of luck! There were days I would ask for ‘after school tutoring’. Ha! What a crock of sh*t!

No chocolate for you—I’m going to subscribe you to Showtime since you’re lagging behind a bit. And…as far as Shane, SHE NEEDS TO EAT A DAMN STEAK! Okay. I’m done.

Prata darling: The brain and the ‘eyes’ are what I go for as well. The way a woman carries herself, and she doesn’t have to be thin—she just has to carry herself well. Believe me, nuttin’ wrong with a little junk in da’trunk! *wink* Although I have a weakness for women with great abs.

Prata said...

No...no there is nothin' wrong with a little junk in the trunk. Not at all. In fact nice hips are the way to go. I know this chick..wait...why am I tellin' this story? Nevermind that. Yeah but she had some hips to her that were like BAM...from Taiwan? Yeah...that was great. Unfortunately...excess is not my life style. Addressed that e-mail thingy. Let me know if that's not clear and concise enough for ya!

~Deb said...

Haha, wait, what story about what chick? No neverminds over here... Well we certainly have one thing in common----women!

Oh-- I got the email, still unclear about the procedure there, but I will -- give me a moment to get my head on straight here. I'll email you back - or get my crap together here- thanks for explaining it to me.

Crescendo said...

Interesting topic and original story.
Happy New Year !

Monica said...

Librarians. Mmmmmmm.
I always wanted to get that job.

Mike said...

This post brought back memories of the only time I tried pot...while insanely drunk...not a good combination. I never felt the urge for pot again after that night of......sickness extraordinaire...lol

Shoe Diva said...

There was a kid in my Biology class that used to trip on acid all the time. --- It was very interesting.

marcy_peanut said...

~deb--Shane does NOT need to eat a steak... *wink* (oh, that's just gross, sorry!!)

green said...

~deb:

you survived the pcp/pot incident because God had work for you to do. It wasn't your time to go....

And we all benefit from your great stories...

Genna said...

Deb: Great post!! I totally remember my crazy high school days... I am so glad to not have to go through any of that again.

I am so glad that everything worked out. It could have ended much worse and then the world would miss you.

Hope you have a great weekend!!! :)

Miss 1999 said...

Deb- that hits so close to home! My best friend in high school smoked pot laced with cocaine. It nearly killed her, a teacher found her face down in a toilet, she had passed out after throwing up violently for I have no idea how long. Luckily, she came out of it ok- and never touching anything again.

I'm glad you came out of it ok as well- and learning a valuable lesson.

Grace said...

I've never tried pot. Most people I tell that to tend to get really suprised... I'm not sure why. Most of my friends smoked it in high school, but I just never felt the need to join in. Should I try it some day?? Am I missing out?

Jon said...

Grace... It's not all it's cracked up to be. I didn't try pot until I was about 33. It makes me laugh, but I don't like the feeling of being out of control. There have been a few times I have indulged since, but nothing like some of my friends (and one family member).

I tried shrooms once about a year and a half ago.... BIG mistake. I hated that experience. Never again.

Jon said...

Deb, I forgot to say.... great post!!!

~Deb said...

Crescendo: Thank you- Happy New Year to you too!

Monica: Did you just look at the picture and then comment? (heh)

Mike: Oooh no Mike. The spins…that’s a horrible thing. I even remember that when I did it regularly as a teen.

Princess: I never did acid before, but had a friend who got a tab slipped in the bottom of her keg cup at this huge party we went to. I’ll never forget it—she freaked out so bad, she thought she was going insane. What a horrible thing to do to someone.

Marcy: Get over it—Shane’s a little boy. Bleckkk

Green: It was an awful feeling to have my heart rate that fast! How do drug addicts enjoy this? Anyway, thank you for saying that---I hope no one goes back and smokes a huge bong after this post!

Genna: I’m glad it wasn’t a worse case scenario. My friend who also smoked ran out of her classroom screaming, “My pencil is a giant! My pencil is a giant!” She literally thought her pencil grew to be like 10 feet tall. This stuff was horrible. We had no clue it was laced until we spoke to the ‘trusted source’.

Miss1999: I also had a time when I smoked pot that was laced with something—didn’t know what it was---but I kept vomiting. There was heroin laced in it. That’s a huge sign of heroin. The sickness feeling. But….it could have been a reaction to cocaine. I’ll never touch pot ever again, because it’s just not safe—as far as pure goes.

Amainggrace: No! Not worth it. Have a glass of wine instead. Seriously. For me---it was a feeling of paranoia every single time. Not sure why I did it. But, each person reacts differently to it. I just wont go near the stuff because it’s just not safe.

Jon: That’s true---it does give you the giggles---but gave me the giggles so much that I got an anxiety attack. What a freak I am. What happened when you tried the shroom? Never did that—just didn’t like the fact you had to eat mold. Ugh. Thanks Jon~

marcy_peanut said...

I have to agree--I was just watching some episodes of The L Word: Season 2 (towards the end of the season) and MY GOD!! What have they done to HER???? The wardrobe person is dressing her like she IS a man. I loved the androgynous look of season 1. I LOVED it. But, this new look is just ridiculous (for me, that is. It's totally not my thing. I don't think I would date someone who wore button downs and ties.).

Wenchy said...

For some wack reason I never had any desire to try any drugs.. although I so do not mind the perscription type... bring on the Prozac honey.

~Deb said...

Marcy: She looks better than she did. She looked like wrags when she first started the show. Sorry sweetie.

Wenchy: Good. I'm glad you didn't try any drugs. Oh the hell with Prozac-----bring on the ativans! (hehe) Sorry, my bad!

Boris Yeltsin said...

I had something similar happen to me in high school, where this guy smoked a joint a joint with me, and when we were done, he said, "Feeling anything yet?" I thought that was a strange question since I thought it was "just" pot. He said, "Don't worry - you will," and he gave me a wry smile and walked away. Man, was he sooooo correct!

Boris Yeltsin said...

BTW: tell me about your books if you don't mind!

Nettie said...

Wow, how freaky is that?

Walking Contradiction said...

I had the super hots for my extremly sexy 9th grade English Comp. / Creat. Writing teacher Ms. Micheals. She was a bombshell blonde with short hair who wore short skirts and ........... FUCK she was hot!!!!!!

It got ruined when I discovered she had a boyfriend who was a cop.

Walking Contradiction said...

OH, me and my friends used to do that after school, we would get off the school bus, go to a friends house and pass around some joints with the guy's DAD, and chase with screwdriver. That was in 7th grade. I am glad I don't even think about touching that shit now- NO THANK YOU!!!

kathi said...

I'm afraid I'm the 'bad girl' on this post. I don't fit in here...tissues please.

However, been clean for 23 years!

barman said...

I will notice a person apperance but to me it is their mind that is even more attractive. I so enjoy someone that is an excelent writer or a wonderful poet.

I only tried drugs twice, both times it was pot. I was in my twenties and all I got out of it was a bad taste in my mouth. I am glad that is the case as I have never even thought about trying it again. As to drinking, I have cut back from what I used to drink. I hate that out of control feeling.

Deb thanks for that very descriptive trip. It is something I will never experience but now I feel like I was there. It amazes me how and why people put themselves through something like that.

blackops said...

Maybe you were hallucinating as well when you thought your creative writing teachers were hot, cuz all of mine werent the hot type. And as for you young lady, go to your room and stay there until I decide if 40 years is going to be enough for you.

Geoffrey Hirschfeld said...

You puritans-get back on the boat! Just kidding-not too proudly, but I have done my share, your share, and I have a feeling a stole a little off of Deb's plate too, and now that I haven't touched "the hard stuff" for a few years, my brain is now working again. Pot was my fav-tried snowcaps once(pot+cocaine), didn't like that one at all: Had some stuff one time that smelled like gasoline, that was miserable stuff; Opium, that was fun-not; No cocaine for me-already insecure about the size of my willy, don't need anything else to exascerbate it; And Acid-well, let's just say that white blotter used to be my friend, and I fit the dictionary definition of somebody who is insane because of it.Yep, I was a walking science lab of chemicals in "high" school and college.

That being said, I look at drugs like a learning experience-you learn that they are a pain in the ass!I found that I like my sense of control way too much, and that when I was on drugs, I was no where near as whitty as I think that I am now.And plus, I realize now that I was just self-medicating for a pain that unless I dealt with it, it would not go away.

I dealt with the pain, but now my DOC is wine and vodka. I watch my consumption like a hawk, because I like to escape, but I never want to lose control again.

Great post, as usual.

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