When you think of Date Rape Drugs, your mind immediately takes you to something you might have seen in the movies or heard in the news. Maybe a college party setting or in the city at a bar or club. Young adults out partying and just looking to have a good time. At least that was how I thought of it. Seeing news reports of rapes and overdoses always made me think, WOW, I am so lucky I didn't experience these dangers when I was in my 20's. I was so naive. Let me tell you, that is not the entire picture. A predator using these drugs, looking for a victim, is not prejudiced and often prays on both men and women for different reasons. I am a mother, a wife, a friend and a sister. Nearly 40 years old with wrinkles on my face, silver strands in my hair and a body that brought 4 beautiful babies into this world. It never dawned on me that I would be in danger. I was wrong.
Please let me start by saying how difficult this is for me to write. I never thought this would be my story to tell. But it is. And I feel compelled to share it. Because it can happen to anyone.
It was a cold and chilly Saturday in February. I was invited to a mom's night out with a friend and two other women. We were going to spend an evening without children or husbands, just having dinner and a few drinks. We stayed local, walking distance to home if needed but took an Uber so we could all enjoy the evening safely. We arrived to dinner around 6pm. There was a wait for the table so we had a couple of fun girly cocktails at the lounge next door as we waited. Every drink accompanied by a glass of water. We are moms, remembering that we needed to wake up the next morning. It was lovely. We talked, we laughed, we shared stories. It was a wonderful break from the day to day life of motherhood. Dinner was delicious. Another cocktail enjoyed. Everything was as it should be.
As 11pm crept upon us and the restaurant was beginning to close, we were enjoying the night so much that we decided to have just one more drink at the bar across the street. We walked joyfully, filled with lively laughter over to the intersection crosswalk. The street was brightly lit by the Christmas lights still hanging in the trees. It wasn't busy, only a handful of people sitting at the bar. We grabbed a table in the back and ordered 4 beers. After a night of sipping on tasty frilly drinks, the beers were just not enjoyable. So I offered to go up and see if I could get us all something else. I stood at the end of the bar, talking to the bartender about options for us four moms. There were two men, I will never forget, sitting in the last two seats of the bar closest to me. One had on a cowboy hat and the other a set of crutches leaning on the bar. I thought they were just a couple of guy friends out having a drink at the local sports bar. They were young, younger than myself at least. They seemed quiet but polite. Offering suggestions on what we might like the taste of. The drink they recommended I had never heard of before. I felt old. It tasted like a shot of peppermint mouthwash. It'll do. I ordered four, walked back to the table, took my shot, and that was the last thing that I remember.
What you read from this point on is information that was told to me about the evening as experienced by my husband, the women I went out to dinner with, as well as the police, paramedics and doctors who all saved my life.
It was just after midnight, my husband heard me come home. I had knocked over the heavy iron doorstop and it made a loud noise. Apparently I was able enter my door code and stumble into the house. Before we left the bar, the friend that had invited me out, started taking drunk pictures of me and texting them in a hilarious attempt to make fun of the mom who could not hold her liquor. I was passing out at the table. The photos are evidence that I looked like "that girl." As a group, the ladies decided it was time to go and called the Uber to get us home, which I vomited profusely out the window of. It took just a few minutes to drive home, where I was dropped at my door like a stray dog and treated like a terrible inconvenience. Somehow I managed to make it up a long flight of stairs to the bathroom. That is where my husband found me covered in vomit and urine while in a kneeling position as if it was death by guillotine. Of course he had no idea what I had been doing all night. In his mind I was just piss drunk and he was furious that I had gotten so incredibly sloppy. He had the right to be mad. I would have been mad at him just the same if he had come home in this condition after a night out with the guys. But it wasn't even really that late. So he let me be, thinking I would get my shit together and come to bed.
But I didn't.
As the minutes passed, he couldn't sleep. Something wouldn't let him rest. Something didn't feel right. He paced the house, peaking in on me every few minutes. Then he noticed something. I was laying on the floor with vomit running down my face and...I had stopped breathing. He called 911. The operator on the phone instructed him pull my body straight and flat on the floor and to open my airway. I was like a ragdoll. Motionless and limp. It felt like a dream. I can still hear the voices yelling my name....CAN YOU HEAR ME, CAN YOU HEAR ME?! Once the paramedics arrived I remember a brief awakening with a terrible pain in my chest, pain like I had never felt before. I whispered ever so softly "help me, help me." Then I was gone again. They quickly lifted my limp body onto the stretcher, unable to move anything, completely paralyzed. With an oxygen mask on my face and an IV in my arm, they rushed me to the nearest hospital. My husband woke the children and carried them to the car. He did not have the words to tell them what was happening to their mother. "Mom is sick" he said, "We must go now, she is very sick."
There was a lot going on between the time my husband found me in the bathroom, the 911 call and the paramedics working on me. He had frantically tried to call the friend that I had been out with. No answer. So he text her. He was scared, he was panicking and he was trying to get answers for the medical team. His texts said: What did you drop off at my house? She is covered in vomit. What did she have to drink? Do I need to take her to the hospital? This is not normal.
The casual responses from someone I considered my good friend, were filled with goofy face emojis and included: Ha! No, she is good. Just let her sleep it off. She had 4 girly cocktails and a shot. We had the same but I didn't take my shot, silly face emoji.
Then her phone went to DND.
She wasn't concerned.
As I arrived at the hospital, again it felt very dream like, with faint sounds of beeping and voices in the air. I could hear more yelling CAN YOU HEAR ME, CAN YOU HEAR ME?! But I was unresponsive. The ER team cut the clothes from my body and began their emergency work. My central nervous system had started to shut down. The doctor kept my husband and children in a private waiting room. He asked the doctor questions like, "Did she have a stroke? Is it alcohol poisoning?" The doctor reported my blood alcohol level was a 0.18 which is above the legal driving limit, but not at a dangerous level and consistent with the amount of alcohol I had consumed over the 6 hour time period. He continued to mention that levels typically seen with alcohol poisoning are usually around 0.4. The doctor felt something else was going on and his immediate concern was drugs. In order to rule out a stroke they sent me for a CT scan but just before they rolled me down the hall, the doctor gave me an IV medication in hopes of counter acting any drugs in my system. They often used it for heroine overdoses. If it was drugs it would work quickly to stabilize me and I would bounce back almost immediately. If it was something else, it would do nothing.
The next thing I remember is seeing bright lights glaring down from the ceiling as I was pushed through the hospital hall in a bed. I saw my husband standing, surrounded by doctors and I began to panic. I screamed for him, I called his name. I had no idea where I was. I was crying and shaking and asking, "where am I, what is happening?!" I began to hyperventilate and panic more. It was the bounce back that the doctor had been looking for. The medication worked. But now my heart rate was blowing through the roof and I was unable to breath. Immediately they sedated me and placed me in a medically induced sleep to calm me while allowing my body to detox and heal from what would be the worst hang over imaginable. More tests were performed and the police had many questions about where I was that night. But the most important thing was that they had saved me. My husband had saved me.
It was a cold and dark Sunday night in February. That is when I woke up from a GHB overdose. I didn't remember the last 24 hours of my life. I felt different. I felt scared, violated, embarrassed and ashamed. A spouse should never see their other half in such a terrible situation or worry that their wife may be the victim of a predator just blocks from home. You should never worry if the people you call friends will actually pay attention to those they say they care about when danger is knocking at the door. An innocent night out had changed my life. I was lucky. Very lucky. Lucky to make it home. Lucky that my husband had a feeling deep inside of him that something was wrong. Lucky to be alive. But the luck that I feel more than anything else from that night is....I was lucky it was me. The women I had been out with were either single or struggling in their marriages. If it had been one of them who drank the shot laced with drugs, they may very well have never woken up the next morning, home alone or left to sleep it off. We were all so very lucky.
A liquid form of the drug GHB had been slipped into my drink that night. I had now become a statistic. A criminal case that will most likely go unsolved. And I cannot help but think every day how another victim unknowingly awaits.
I keep replaying that night over and over in my head. Thinking, what did I do wrong? Telling myself...had we just gone home and not across the street to another bar, none of this would have happened. My children almost lost their mother. My husband almost lost his wife. My father almost lost his daughter. And my sister almost lost her sister. But now I know. I know that it can happen to anyone. I know what the warning signs are. I know that I must be more careful. I know it can happen close to home. I know that I must never let my guard down. And I know that I must teach my children how to be safe. Now I know.
And now you know.
Please let me start by saying how difficult this is for me to write. I never thought this would be my story to tell. But it is. And I feel compelled to share it. Because it can happen to anyone.
As 11pm crept upon us and the restaurant was beginning to close, we were enjoying the night so much that we decided to have just one more drink at the bar across the street. We walked joyfully, filled with lively laughter over to the intersection crosswalk. The street was brightly lit by the Christmas lights still hanging in the trees. It wasn't busy, only a handful of people sitting at the bar. We grabbed a table in the back and ordered 4 beers. After a night of sipping on tasty frilly drinks, the beers were just not enjoyable. So I offered to go up and see if I could get us all something else. I stood at the end of the bar, talking to the bartender about options for us four moms. There were two men, I will never forget, sitting in the last two seats of the bar closest to me. One had on a cowboy hat and the other a set of crutches leaning on the bar. I thought they were just a couple of guy friends out having a drink at the local sports bar. They were young, younger than myself at least. They seemed quiet but polite. Offering suggestions on what we might like the taste of. The drink they recommended I had never heard of before. I felt old. It tasted like a shot of peppermint mouthwash. It'll do. I ordered four, walked back to the table, took my shot, and that was the last thing that I remember.
What you read from this point on is information that was told to me about the evening as experienced by my husband, the women I went out to dinner with, as well as the police, paramedics and doctors who all saved my life.
It was just after midnight, my husband heard me come home. I had knocked over the heavy iron doorstop and it made a loud noise. Apparently I was able enter my door code and stumble into the house. Before we left the bar, the friend that had invited me out, started taking drunk pictures of me and texting them in a hilarious attempt to make fun of the mom who could not hold her liquor. I was passing out at the table. The photos are evidence that I looked like "that girl." As a group, the ladies decided it was time to go and called the Uber to get us home, which I vomited profusely out the window of. It took just a few minutes to drive home, where I was dropped at my door like a stray dog and treated like a terrible inconvenience. Somehow I managed to make it up a long flight of stairs to the bathroom. That is where my husband found me covered in vomit and urine while in a kneeling position as if it was death by guillotine. Of course he had no idea what I had been doing all night. In his mind I was just piss drunk and he was furious that I had gotten so incredibly sloppy. He had the right to be mad. I would have been mad at him just the same if he had come home in this condition after a night out with the guys. But it wasn't even really that late. So he let me be, thinking I would get my shit together and come to bed.
But I didn't.
As the minutes passed, he couldn't sleep. Something wouldn't let him rest. Something didn't feel right. He paced the house, peaking in on me every few minutes. Then he noticed something. I was laying on the floor with vomit running down my face and...I had stopped breathing. He called 911. The operator on the phone instructed him pull my body straight and flat on the floor and to open my airway. I was like a ragdoll. Motionless and limp. It felt like a dream. I can still hear the voices yelling my name....CAN YOU HEAR ME, CAN YOU HEAR ME?! Once the paramedics arrived I remember a brief awakening with a terrible pain in my chest, pain like I had never felt before. I whispered ever so softly "help me, help me." Then I was gone again. They quickly lifted my limp body onto the stretcher, unable to move anything, completely paralyzed. With an oxygen mask on my face and an IV in my arm, they rushed me to the nearest hospital. My husband woke the children and carried them to the car. He did not have the words to tell them what was happening to their mother. "Mom is sick" he said, "We must go now, she is very sick."
There was a lot going on between the time my husband found me in the bathroom, the 911 call and the paramedics working on me. He had frantically tried to call the friend that I had been out with. No answer. So he text her. He was scared, he was panicking and he was trying to get answers for the medical team. His texts said: What did you drop off at my house? She is covered in vomit. What did she have to drink? Do I need to take her to the hospital? This is not normal.
The casual responses from someone I considered my good friend, were filled with goofy face emojis and included: Ha! No, she is good. Just let her sleep it off. She had 4 girly cocktails and a shot. We had the same but I didn't take my shot, silly face emoji.
Then her phone went to DND.
She wasn't concerned.
As I arrived at the hospital, again it felt very dream like, with faint sounds of beeping and voices in the air. I could hear more yelling CAN YOU HEAR ME, CAN YOU HEAR ME?! But I was unresponsive. The ER team cut the clothes from my body and began their emergency work. My central nervous system had started to shut down. The doctor kept my husband and children in a private waiting room. He asked the doctor questions like, "Did she have a stroke? Is it alcohol poisoning?" The doctor reported my blood alcohol level was a 0.18 which is above the legal driving limit, but not at a dangerous level and consistent with the amount of alcohol I had consumed over the 6 hour time period. He continued to mention that levels typically seen with alcohol poisoning are usually around 0.4. The doctor felt something else was going on and his immediate concern was drugs. In order to rule out a stroke they sent me for a CT scan but just before they rolled me down the hall, the doctor gave me an IV medication in hopes of counter acting any drugs in my system. They often used it for heroine overdoses. If it was drugs it would work quickly to stabilize me and I would bounce back almost immediately. If it was something else, it would do nothing.
The next thing I remember is seeing bright lights glaring down from the ceiling as I was pushed through the hospital hall in a bed. I saw my husband standing, surrounded by doctors and I began to panic. I screamed for him, I called his name. I had no idea where I was. I was crying and shaking and asking, "where am I, what is happening?!" I began to hyperventilate and panic more. It was the bounce back that the doctor had been looking for. The medication worked. But now my heart rate was blowing through the roof and I was unable to breath. Immediately they sedated me and placed me in a medically induced sleep to calm me while allowing my body to detox and heal from what would be the worst hang over imaginable. More tests were performed and the police had many questions about where I was that night. But the most important thing was that they had saved me. My husband had saved me.
It was a cold and dark Sunday night in February. That is when I woke up from a GHB overdose. I didn't remember the last 24 hours of my life. I felt different. I felt scared, violated, embarrassed and ashamed. A spouse should never see their other half in such a terrible situation or worry that their wife may be the victim of a predator just blocks from home. You should never worry if the people you call friends will actually pay attention to those they say they care about when danger is knocking at the door. An innocent night out had changed my life. I was lucky. Very lucky. Lucky to make it home. Lucky that my husband had a feeling deep inside of him that something was wrong. Lucky to be alive. But the luck that I feel more than anything else from that night is....I was lucky it was me. The women I had been out with were either single or struggling in their marriages. If it had been one of them who drank the shot laced with drugs, they may very well have never woken up the next morning, home alone or left to sleep it off. We were all so very lucky.
A liquid form of the drug GHB had been slipped into my drink that night. I had now become a statistic. A criminal case that will most likely go unsolved. And I cannot help but think every day how another victim unknowingly awaits.
I keep replaying that night over and over in my head. Thinking, what did I do wrong? Telling myself...had we just gone home and not across the street to another bar, none of this would have happened. My children almost lost their mother. My husband almost lost his wife. My father almost lost his daughter. And my sister almost lost her sister. But now I know. I know that it can happen to anyone. I know what the warning signs are. I know that I must be more careful. I know it can happen close to home. I know that I must never let my guard down. And I know that I must teach my children how to be safe. Now I know.
And now you know.
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