*****!!! My stomachits killing me. Im in so much pain. Make it stop, make the pain go away. My skin feels like its crawling. Im shaking. Why am I shaking? Im hotI have to be, Im sweatinga lot. But I feel so cold. Someones coming!

Where the ***** am I? I scream.

Calm down Ms. McCutcheon. Shes telling me to calm down? Why should I calm down? My stomach is killing me, my head is pounding, Im sweating like a race horse, and I cant stop shaking.

Where the ***** AM I and how did I get here?

A young manI think his name was Clive, brought you in the last night, she finally answers. He told us your name and that you had been binging on a variety of street drugs.

Clive? Where is he? I need to knowIm going to kill him. Why did he have to stop me? My life is *****. I was happy in my euphoric high. I think Im going to be sick. The woman hands me a basin just as I begin to vomit. Dry heavesnot fun. I must not have eaten anything for a while. My muscles tighten spastically as my body tries in vain to expel whatever it is thats making me ill. It stops just long enough for me to catch my breaththen begins again.

Ill bring some medication thatll help with the nausea. Just stay here, Ill be right back.

Medication? Where the ***** AM I? I gaze around to see the sterile environment of a hospital room. An IV in my arm, I follow it to find a fluid-filled bag. Thensomething I hadnt noticed beforeBEEPBEEPBEEP. My eyes stop on a machineit looks like a heart monitor. I trace the wires from the machinethey hang down and curve back upleading to my bedto my gown. Lifting the neckline I follow the wires to their positionsat various places around my chest.

Here we go, the nurse re-enters. This should help.

This is a hospital isnt it, I yell, trying to get some answers.

Yes it is, she answers, soothing my nerves a little as she hands me a small paper cup containing two pills.

Whats this, I ask, still trembling violently.

One pill will help with the nausea. The other will help with your other symptoms.

Do you really think Ill keep this down? I ask her condescendingly. What an idiot, she sees how much Ive been throwing upor not throwing up. I wont even be able to swallow the pills before I have another spastic fit of dry heaves!

The doctor wants to start out with this to see how tolerant you are, she answers, how can she be so calm? She moves closer to me. Placing her hand on my shoulder, she gently nudges my other hand so Ill take the pills. Here goes nothin. I throw the pills back and chase them down with the cup of water she hands me. I feel a little better already. She helps me lay back down and, before leaving the room, asks, is there anyone I can call for you?

No, I answer, defeated. I dont want anyone to see me like this. Besides, if they were worried about me they would have been here already. I close my weary eyes and drift off to the not-so-restful slumber of cocaine withdrawal.

To Be Continued…