Two instances come to mind, but there are others...
In 1989, before I gave up doing cocaine, I was at a party. Someone passed me the mirror with a huge line of coke on it. Considering that the blow was flowing like... well, Coke, huge lines were the norm. This one was actually more like 2 or 3 big lines, but I was a major cokehead and we were all packing that shit away all night.
I snorted that line in "less than a second"-- next thing I knew, my throat closed off and my chest seized up. I couldn't breathe, and I felt my heart just clench. I was scared shitless. It seemed like several minutes before I could do anything... I couldn't breathe, or speak, or call for help. I began to black out. I felt myself sink to the floor and hit hard. Apparently, it was enough to smack things back to working again and I caught my breath. But it was definitely an eye-opener (no pun intended). That was scary enough to convince me to quit. I haven't messed with blow since that party just over 20 years ago.
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Back in 1993, I was working 2 jobs. One day, some co-workers from my first job offered me a ride over to my second job. I accepted, rather than ride the stupid bus. Bad move. I got very suspicious when they made a turn into a parking lot of some seedy apartments. Then they robbed me and shoved me out of the car via the hatchback. Problem was, my heavy coat got stuck and I was literally being dragged behind the car at speeds up to 60 mph as they tried to get away. They knew I was stuck and were whipping from lane to lane trying to shake me off. I was hanging on for dear life to the spoiler/tailgate, trying not to get slung under the wheels or get hit by another car. Funny how no one was trying to stop these guys, who had a scared woman dangling off their arse end. Eventually the coat cut loose, and I was left hanging onto the back of the car by my hands. All I could do was carefully look around to see if I had a clear spot. Then I let my body stretch out as far as possible, so I was as far from the wheels as I could be, and just let myself drop off. I was wearing a nylon workout suit under my coat, and some "old lady" cloth Keds sneakers. As soon as I hit the pavement, slid to a stop and rolled away, I got up and my clothes were shredded and even imbedded in my skin in spots. My shoes were worn to nothing. My TOENAILS were worn down and my toes were bloody. The sides of my feet were abraded to the bone and I still have bad scars on my right foot and pain to this day. I had serious road rash on my hips. The heels of my hands hit the pavement, and my hands looked like meatloaf after sliding a good hundred feet or so. I had asphalt and road debris imbedded in me.
I was a bloody, torn mess. I was trying to flag down someone to call me some help. But do you think that ANYONE would stop, or call an ambulance, or anything? Pffft... I should have been so lucky. Even 2 police cars went by without stopping. I walked another mile to the police station, where I was eventually seen by paramedics, and was taken to the county hospital (standard since I had no ID... it was stolen when I was robbed). County really did nothing for me after I sat in their waiting room for 13 hours just waiting to even go into the treatment area, then I was seen and simply sent to "Central Supply" all the way on the other side of the (enormous) hospital for bandages, etc. No pain meds, no antibiotics, they didn't clean anything, the doc said "You have road rash", and I had to walk on bloody feet to get my own stuff. 5 days later I got a bill for over $1200. I didn't pay it. Why should I when I could have done the same thing at home, and scored some vicodin from my friend's dad to boot? :no:
Nah, I lived through that and the experience reinforced my cynical attitude toward the human race. I mean, here I am-- the type of person who used to stop to check on a cyclist who has taken a fall, but not one person would stop to ask if a bloody, injured woman wearing torn clothing needs an ambulance. Ever since then, I have refused to stop for anyone anymore. Whereas I used to help at car wrecks if needed before the police and EMT's arrived-- ever since that instance, I now just keep going. Not my problem anymore that you're having a bad day. So a kid gets hurt on a skateboard? Tough. I'm busy. I don't have time to stop and why should I? Some girl's getting whipped by her old man? Sorry, that's between y'all. Call the cops if it's so bad; it's not my deal. Restaurant diner choking on a piece of meat? Someone do the Heimlich maneuver-- I'm busy eating. Don't bother me.
No, I didn't die from that instance, but any flame of compassion that I used to have for my fellow human beings did... that's a lesson that I needed to learn I guess: "Look out for Number One, and don't step in Number Two."
