Then I heard the cops say, “Go ahead and give it to him.” That was right after I awoke from the overdose and thought the cops and paramedics were there to take me to the psych ward, so I started fighting.

They strapped me down to the gurney. I couldn’t get out, or so I believed in the moment. Through the hallucinations and paranoia, I grasped a slight edge of reality. Something terrible had happened.

The first responders got the nod from the cop. The needle went in, and I slipped once again into oblivion.

They loaded me into the back of the ambulance, and I regained consciousness again. Four people stared at me, and I still did not understand what was happening. I became consumed with the idea that “I must find a key to escape before they put me away forever.” The hallucinations were overwhelming at this time; It was too much, and I passed out again.

The doctor ran a series of tests while I was still in Lah Lah Land. When my eyes opened, my wife, my sons, a buddy from work, nurses, and the doctor were in the room with me. By that time, my chemical romance was wearing off. I began comprehending what was going on around me. More and more shades of reality were returning.

I have to admit, I was a major jerk at that time in my life. All I could think about was how much money this was going to cost.

The doctor wanted to do more tests, I asked, “Why would I need more tests?” The doctor answers, “We need to find out what’s wrong with you!” I said bluntly, “I know what’s wrong with me, and I’m not staying the night in this hospital.” The nurse says under her breath, “Got some bad stuff, huh?” The doctor became indignant, demanding I continue with the prodding or sign a waiver. I did not appreciate the doctor’s attempts to bully me into staying. I signed his papers, and I was out of there.

Little did I know how much things would change after I left the hospital that night.