BITTER PILL TO SWALLOW

One summer night last August, my friends and I went out looking for a
transient state of euphoria. Having experimented with ecstasy a dozen or so
times, I knew what I was getting into. But I didn't know that eight hours
later, I would be in an emergency ward.

Growing up, I always told myself that I would never touch drugs. Only the
bad kids did it.

Having left the emergency ward the same day intact, I feel that I learned a
lesson. Simply put, ecstasy sucks in unsuspecting victims, like me, with
the promise of energy, euphoria, and enlightenment.

The pill looks as innocent and generic as a multi-vitamin, although at $20
a hit, the price is a bit steep. Who knew that it would unlock such
chemical bliss.

Ecstasy's certainly not new. Pure ecstasy is made of a compound called
MDMA. It was created in 1912 and originally marketed and used as a
therapeutic drug. It wasn't until the 80's that it was widely used as a
club drug.

A year later, on a cold winter night, I held one in my hand for the first
time and it quickly vanished into my mouth. A few of my friends and I went
to a rave at this warehouse. It was our first rave and we were even more
excited because we had some pills.

It hits you after 20-30 minutes: that feeling that the ground is becoming
lighter. A tingling sensation starts in your head and you' re floating.
Your surroundings dim and you become sensitive to sound and light. The
music pounds beneath your feet and the neon spotlights and laser lightning
become watercolours.

Ecstasy is nicknamed the six-hour orgasm, because your sensuality is
increased. For me, conversations, touching, hugs, and stares took on a
flirtatious overtone.

I danced non-stop, because of the boost in energy. We offered each other
candy to help avoid clenching teeth and jaw.

Another phenomenon was the e-talk, the conversations held between people on
E: loose, loving, and confessional. When we weren't dancing, my friends and
I would be sitting in the lounge area, or the sweat-covered floor, and talk
about stupid things or confess our love for one another.

The E leaves your system after six to eight hours like a flushing toilet.
It drains from your head, and you feel it being drained down your body,
leaving you feeling cold and empty.

When we partied, we'd come home at 8 a.m. in the morning, sleep the day
away and ate small meals for the following day. It's not to say I allowed
my work and studies to go downhill. They just became less of a proirity.

My health didn't matter either. Perhaps it should have, because E leaves
its mark on you, including psychological side-effects such as depression,
suicidal fantasies, panic attacks, paranoia, depersonalization, and
headaches. It also adversely affects memory and higher cognitive function.

There are also physical reactions such as internal bleeding, heart attacks,
liver damage, kidney failure, strokes, convulsions, and coma.

Sure, I knew the general risks then. Sure, I knew that 21-year-old Ryerson
University student Allan Ho died of ecstasy related causes during my
freshman year. The point was that I lived and he didn't.

Call it magical thinking, but back then, I never cared about studies like
the recent one by the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services
Administration in the US. It stated that ecstasy was mentioned nearly 3,000
times as the cause for emergency room visits in 1999.

It wasn't until this August, when I became a statistic, that I cared.

Something did not feel right about that final time I dosed. I felt strong
pains at the back of my neck and dizzy. Like all other times, I drank a lot
of water. However, even after seven bottles of water, I couldn't pee all night.

When we got back to my friend's place, I still could not pee, and it
worried the hell out of me. I felt like passing out, but I was afraid that
if I went to bed, something bad was going to happen. At 7 a.m. we took a
cab to the hospital.

It was a humiliating experience registering myself at an emergency ward
doped out of my mind. When the doctors interviewed me, I told them the
whole truth and felt their judging eyes staring sharply down on me.

I was placed on a bed and a nurse came in and stuck a pink catheter into my
penis to drain my bladder. Thank God I was almost passed out, because it
felt like they were tearing my penis open! Then a doctor came in and
lectured me about how lucky I was that the only problem I had was not peeing.

"Other people die from it!"

"Like a former lover to an enamoured mate, I am often reminded the pills
are the wildest ride I will ever have."

Studies have shown that ecstasy slows the kidneys down, making it hard to
pee. If you're not dancing around a lot and you're not sweating buckets,
don't drink so much. If you drink too much, then it's possible to dilute
your blood and die.

The entire night was jarring.

The frightening thing is that if I never got that wake up call, I'd
probably still be partying with it. I also wonder how it damaged me. I do
find that it's harder to remember things and I'm now more prone to panic
attacks.

Then there are the temptations. Like a former lover to an enamoured mate, I
am often reminded the pills are the wildest ride I will ever have.

A month after the incident, I went clubbing with my friends at that same
club. I walked past the same dealer and he looked much more sinister. Never
did the crowded metal interiors of the club feel colder and hollow. My
steps felt heavy. The colourful lights were dull and the people swirling
around me were pretentious. The music was souless.

It was a bitter pill to swallow to realize just how quiet it became.