Parasuicide experience with the painkillers

Today as I was walking around, I saw a vial of propofol, mixed up with other wastes in a garbage mound. Whenever I see this class of drugs, I get terribly scared. Propofol is arguably one of the terrible general anaesthesia, frequently abused and thought to be the cause of most celebrity drug abuse-related deaths. Known as the 'Milk of Amnesia', this substance is more of a killer than a medicine. Seeing this vial out here means someone must be abusing this medicine. My personal encounter with sedatives, antibiotics and antipsychotics is worse than anyone would ever imagine.

Propofol Vial

At some point, I was diagnosed with psychosis, put on three different types of drugs including Chlorpromazine, Artane and another whose name I can't even remember.Before these drugs, I suffered from severe insomnia and unexplained fear. Every night I would suffer terrible nightmares and would choose to burn my oil the rest of the night. After I had been put on these medication, I became a consistent abuser of Chlorpromazine. I remember being instructed for the first time to take only 25 mg of Chlorpromazine after supper. I ignored the regimen and started taking three 50 mg chlorpromazine tablets at any given time of the day. I didn't care about dying at that time because all I wanted was to be sedated and unconscious of this world. Chlorpromazine overdose took a toll on me. During this period, I thought I was doing the right thing, pacifying my pain. I was at college still and not even my roomies would notice my addiction.

Chlorpromazine

Being a medical student at a renowned medical training college, I knew this was unethical. I kept this a secret from many people. My family members knew I was on medication and assumed I was following the regimen as required. Every night, and occasionally during the day, I would fall unconscious 10-15 minutes after the overdose. If I did it at a wrong time, I would fall, get messed up and sometimes hurt myself. I didn't care because these drugs left me for the dead. Along with the dangerous effects, i was gaining weight rapidly and developing severe chest pains. i knew this was heart-related pains (Angina pectoris). I thought i was invincible and aware of my actions. i would manipulate a counselor's mind and still get a stash of chlorpromazine. But it wasn't long before I realized a fine line between life and death.

One day, at my sisters' place here in Nairobi, I took my pills earlier than I was supposed to. I knew it was my last day because this time, I took 300 mg. The chlorpromazine tablets were bigger, 100 mg each. In less than 10 minutes, I became drowsy and fell right on their table, which had been set. The following day, i didn't believe I was alive. I had a lengthy sleep that night right into the afternoon of the following day. I was a miracle on that day. I wanted to quit using the drugs, but I knew they were helping me. These drugs helped me with concentration and calmness. I enjoyed moments after chlorpromazine-induced naps. I was as good as dead. Later in 2009, I started reading more and more documentaries. Then I came across the story of Michael Jackson around 2009 or 2010. I knew I had escaped death by a whisker. Although I had unprecedented heart aches, I weaned myself off from sedatives.

Some of these drugs and medicines give us short-lived euphoria, but the consequences are often catastrophic. I was killing myself slowly. This is somehow what bhang and other similar drugs do to people. To this end, let those using these drugs learn something from my story. Even the over-the-counter pain killers like paracetamol and Ibuprofen are silent killers. The more you become addicted, the more they kill you. Seeing this vial lying out here means someone is secretly injecting himself with what should be an ICU or Theatre anaesthesia.