Steve
I open my eyes to an unfarmiliar room filled with the unpleasant smell of antiseptic I found irritating to perceive, and a bedside monitor. hospital?? Oh no! Why is she sitting by me? A strange woman. I feel her hands on mine as her eyes meet mine. She seemed clouded with relief the moment her gaze met me awake and she races out of the room. My head aches again, I can't remember why or how I got here. Everything seems strange.She comes back in with a man in a white coat, the kind they use in laboratories with something hung around his neck, i dont know who they are or why they stare at me. He removes the mask and tube from my nose and speaks to her about me. He asks some questions, She explains my greatest nemesis, addiction to him and I hear him talk about his suspicion that my body was toxicated and i'd taken a big risk combining cannabis a depressant with cocaine a stimulant. He said it was nothing spiritual as she earlier thought. that depressants slowed the body systems while stimulants made them speed up and combining them meant sending mixed messages (speeding things up and slowing them down) to my vital organs which led to an elevated heart rate, increased blood pressure and even breathing problems plus a stress on my brain as the effects compouond. I'd narrowly escaped death being on the verge of a cardiac arrest or a heart attack.
I remained in the hospital for days receiving series of treatment and medications. The man in white said my lungs and other internal organs suffered from continuous intake of drugs and substance which were toxic, i had temperal memory loss and psychosis.The pain in my abdomen wasn't helping, My insides felt sore I couldn't remember anything and wouldn't say a word. I was never happy, i needed something to give me that extreme mood elevation I always got. Often times I tried to run away from that medical dungeon, I couldn't. I was being watched closely like a prisoner. I hated them, I hate everyone, even my self. I'd scream endlessly at whoever was coming to render medications and even try to harm them sometimes. That woman, she kept saying she was my mum, explaining weird things I couldn't remember.
Weeks past, I was transfered to another prison, they said it was a "Rehabilitation center" and there I would meet people who would help me overcome all of this and I'd receive psychotherapy. At first I felt worse, lonely, dejected. days, weeks, months past , I remained here. They made me narrate my experiences to psychologist. I was told people develop tolerance from constant use of drugs and they may also loose this tolerance if they havent used drugs for a while, just like the horrible experiences i had in my bid to quit drugs, something called "withdrawal syndrome" and if not taken to a rehab centre or given medical attention after the break from drugs they may relapse, going back to drugs again like i'd done. And when people take their usual amount of drugs after a break from using it could become too much for the body to cope with, leading to an overdose. This can even go worse when the drug is combined, like in my case. Here, they understood how I felt It was like they were watching all my experiences, they had answers to all my unanswered questions, the voices in my head, the ill feelings and everything. i was still sad but gradually i felt better knowing they were people who understood my weirdness, my craziness, who made me understand I could be better again and people who felt the same way as me, other addicts. Gradually, I began to fight substance abuse and dependence, i regained my memory bit by bit though my heart and lungs still put me in deep pains I was given frequent medications, encouragement and therapy. My cravings for substance, depressions, anxiety and agitation died slowly. I learnt Luke was arrested during my stay here and was later sent to jail as well rasheed.
It's been five months now and as I leave this place, better than I'd always wished I know and realise I've made mistakes, endangered my life, wasted a big part of my youth, i've hard scars and unpleasant memories to forever live with yet I've learnt from my mistakes, I've learnt I could live again at my worst, I've learnt that just like the pauper never wishes to be born a pauper Nobody wants to be a slave to substance, an addict, it was never a choice. Everyday in Nigeria, an alarming incident of drug abuse by people, youths especially is recorded. The use of hard drugs has become a social menace. The fate of that insane man holding his ciggarate so dear in the street could not have resulted from voodoo/juju as we'd always imagine in this dark continent but from hard drug abuse. People die of substance abuse, careers die too, their future is hidden even before it is born. Don't get entangled in the web yet don't judge the addicted, they also yearn for a shoulder to cry on sometimes, they yearn for ears to listen, hearts to understand, depression, pain ,hate is what they feel. Its never a choice yet it shouldn't be an option. Spread the word, save a life, save our future. Don't say "just for today" today could turn into days, weeks, months, years, or eternity. Don't say "only a bit".
" One is too many and a thousand is never enough" SAY NO TO DRUGS!
The end.
0 Comments