Citation: Doctor Dan. "Sorry Dad: An Experience with Tramadol (exp89099)". Erowid.org. Jul 17, 2011. erowid.org/exp/89099
I had been following the dictates of an addict's mind for quite some time; motions to consume as much euphoria as possible came even before eating. The road to the hospital bed that I awoke in is a long one and I will therefore take a short cut.
My life, from age zero until sixteen, was filled with tumultuous events caused by alcoholic parents. It was either the actions of these people (my parents) that bore my depression or it was genetic fate; I choose the latter as it surely is no fault of anyone. In any case, I am a severely depressed person (major depressive disorder with suicidal tendencies).
During the winter of '09 in the time of my first semester of college I tried to hang myself. This single event proved to be the most propagative and healing experience (for reasons I cannot explain simply) of my life; however more damage was needed in order for me to see light. I won't get into the story of how I almost cut my finger off from being too drunk or how the infection that followed almost took my arm as well as my life. No, I will skip ahead to the summer months wherein I had my first (and last) meeting with tramadol.
My friend J had convinced me to go to a party. I knew a lot of people and they worried about me because they hadn’t seen nor heard from my in months; my suicide attempt had prompted me to move from Massachusetts to Kentucky. Upon arriving at the party I told my old friends the long, endless story of what had happened and why I wasn't drinking. They of course agreed it was a good and noble idea however this could not stop fate.
About two hours into the party J and I went to the rest room (gay men go potty with their girlfriends sometimes hahaha) to tinkle. A sudden, insatiable desire washed over me to raid the medicine cabinet. 'J, I'm gonna clean this mother out!' I laughed to her. I ripped open the door and inside laid a humongous zip-lock bag of pharmaceutical candy; I began to salivate. I began riffling through the bag to see what was good (not only do I want to become a doctor I've always had a weird fascination with drug names, so it was easy to spot the good stuff).
'Crap. Crap. More crap,' I said as I tossed useless bottles behind me. 'Aha! What have we here? Tramadol.'
'Will it fuck me up?' J asked
'More than likely,” I told her. “They're 50 mg a piece. Here, take three.'
J was happy as a clam and downed three (150 mg) of the silly little pills; I downed six (300 mg). I shoved the bottle into my pocket and enjoyed the rest of the night. That's it, nothing really happened. I felt like I had eaten a low dose of oxycodone, nothing special at all. I went home, laid in my bed and had a great night sleep.
The next day came with the urge to get messed up, as usual. I decided since they seemed weak to take ten of them (500 mg). About ten to fifteen minutes later I was begging to feel the effects; i was sitting in the living room with my pop (father) watching television and chit chatting. The feeling was coming on like a strong dosage of oxycodone and I was happier than a pig in shit that I had pilfered these suckers. One minute I was great, the next I was dying.
I awoke in a hospital bed with my doctor telling me, 'What a fucking idiot,' I was and how lucky I was to be alive. Next to me was my father, he was sobbing. He thought I was going to die. Apparently, after about twenty minutes of ingestion I began convulsing, thankfully (debatable) right there near my pops. He got up and I faintly remember him shouting my name while slapping me in the face to try to get me to come to (my father is no doctor hahahaha). He phoned 911 and the paramedics arrived soon after.
'How much have you had to drink?' a paramedic asked.
'Wh-what? None, I don't drink.' These words fell out of my mouth as I vomited blood and bile.
I don't remember being put on the gurney; I don't remember arriving at the hospital. I barely remember telling the paramedics that I didn't drink. When I came to I was freezing cold, shivering like a man with Parkinson's.
'What in the hell did you do to yourself?' The doctor demanded.
I reluctantly told him what I had taken.
'Jesus Christ,' this guy did not hold back. 'Do you realize how fucking lucky you are?' One of the only times I have heard a doctor swear; the other time is when I almost lopped my finger off. I will never forget the look in the eyes of that doctor, the look of pity mixed with absolute amazement and anger. To me this look was worse than the way my body felt for I idolized this man, the man that I one day hoped to become.
Then walked in my mother, who like the doctor, promptly told me, 'What a fucking idiot,' I was.
My father, crying lightly, patted me on the shoulder; I neither did nor said anything; I simply looked off into space. Before this incident I had: tried to kill myself, totally blacked out one night from too much booze causing me to severely lacerate my right index finger resulting in a gruesome infection and now this. Who in the hell was I becoming?
The doctor left the room with a huff and a puff and I was left to stew in my thoughts. I was discharged soon after with a report of “altered conscious state and severe gastric trauma,” was prescribed pepsid (famotidine) for the damage I had done to my gut, then received the most embarrassing ass chewing of my life. Though this may sound stupid, I am grateful this happened. This and many other stumbles and falls have gotten me to where I am today and I am utterly grateful.
No matter what you may be able to feel or experience, no matter how 'fucked up' you want to get, always take care when using drugs of any kind, especially pharmaceuticals; they can be extremely dangerous. I thought being very well educated in drug-o-copia that I would be fine, in fact I thought I would be great. Instead I overdosed, seized in front of the man who created me, vomited blood and received the coldest glare from someone I literally wished to be. I almost died that day because I wanted a little fun, a little euphoria to cast away the darkness I so regrettably saw day after day. I can only pray to the hands of fate that this is the last lesson of its kind, though something deep inside me knows this battle with drugs and addiction has only just begun.
COPYRIGHTS: All reports are copyright Erowid and you agree not to download or analyze the report data without contacting Erowid Center and receiving permission first.
Experience Reports are the writings and opinions of the individual authors who submit them.
Some of the activities described are dangerous and/or illegal and none are recommended by Erowid Center.