They say the dead can’t speak, but I can tell you this one does. I had gone to college graduated and had a not so bad starting job. I was 26 years old and had worked all through college dying wasn’t on my resume yet.
Looking back now it wasn’t that hard, I had the cooperation of my friend’s family and of course the good doctor. Each one played a part in my death with myself in the lead role as the victim. My death was manufactured in America conceived in a board room of a billion dollar pharmaceutical giant. My story was foretold by countless others that had come before me. Each one different but the same, all on the same quest, seeking healing only finding death.
Boy I had really done it this time, I could hear the chorus of voices saying “Wow Adam, he really **** up this time”. “Yup he’s dead”. How can this be? I was just here.
It was like any other fall New England day, cloudy with a big chance of drab .I had just prepped my last bit of heroin that wasn’t that great to begin with. I decided to take Joey’s advice and added some fentanyl to give it the boost it needed. That boost cost me my life. As I had so customarily slipped from lucidity to a gentle nod, it did not stop there.
This time was different I went further on the ride than I had ever gone before. Strange things started to happen, my life replayed itself like a tape in super speed in the absence of time. A bright light began to come into focus.
Part of me was asking “am I going to Heaven”?
The other part of me was asking “is my brain dying”. I remember reading somewhere that that’s what happens when the brain dies.
I could hear voices around me and the light grew stronger and closer. I was almost there, where ever this place was, it was coming fast. I could hear myself breathing and thinking dead people can’t breathe.
The light came into a sharp painful focus. I was staring at a ceiling light, I realized I was in a hospital. I wasn’t dead or at least I was not dead anymore. For anyone that wants to know what the other side looks like I can tell you I was on my way to finding out. A nurse stepped into my view and said “Adam we almost lost you. You almost had a lethal overdose, you’re lucky to be alive “
Today wasn’t going to be the day that I died but the day I decided to start living. I reached out for real help a real and lasting solution. Life is a game of inches. Getting help today for a substance abuse, prescription abuse, heroin problem or drinking problem may the difference between living and dying.
Many of us don’t get a second chance at life. However, picking up the phone and reaching out for help will be the deciding factor if we do or not. Don’t wait any longer, the time is now.