It's a universally accepted fact that while drugs can be incredibly fun, they can also be incredibly dangerous, and make you say and do some very stupid shit. The spectrum of stupid shit ranges from texting your ex to thinking you can fly, but somewhere in the middle there is "sustaining a horrendous self-inflicted injury".
I spoke to some people who have caused themselves various degrees of pain or a life-long deformity while under the influence of narcotics.
I completely fucked my face up falling face-down at a rave in a tunnel in Glasgow. I'd ingested about a gram of MD, washed down with a lot of Cava and vodka, and ended up breaking my labial plates and knocking my teeth out to the point that the back of them touched the roof of my mouth and the roots broke. I pretty much just broke my mouth. I went into work the next day because I was still completely fucked and hadn’t realised what had happened, or bothered to look in a mirror. I was working in a horrid chain coffee shop and they made me do the dishes all morning because I looked liked Genesis P-Orridge, but then they found me vomiting into the dishwasher and my manager decided to drive me to A&E. I have a strong memory of "Better Off Alone" playing in the waiting room.
The roots have died, so it's basically an unknown time bomb in terms of my teeth – they were like, "Either tomorrow, in five years or maybe ten, you will get extreme pain and your teeth will turn black." I made my orthodontist cry because I'd had two operations, ten teeth out and years of braces – a work of NHS angelicism – and then I went and got fucked and spoiled everything.
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I fucked up my back trying to do death drops to Drake's "Nice for What" while coked up. I don’t even like the song that much, but for some reason after a smashing my way through half a bag of coke I decided it was imperative that I do a perfect death drop to the bit where it goes "watch the breakdown". Seeing as I have absolutely no experience with death dropping, past binge-watching RuPaul's Drag Race, I was essentially just repeatedly slamming into the floor of my friend's house while screeching at her to rewind the song on YouTube to get to the right bit. I remember, while doing the cocaine, having a fleeting thought about feeling pain the next day, but I thought it would be because of the drugs and not because I would spend my evening fucking up my back to the point that it now hurts to get up. It's been a month.
I was living in Norwich and just doing the standard weekend warrior thing – working in the week and then beer and packet till I die, or at least until the comedowns get too brutal – on the weekend. One night, me and my mate were stumbling back from the club really mashed when we spotted the Tesco bins were open and decided to have a look inside. Managed to get a few loaves of bread and some doughnuts, I think – was decent. As we were stumbling home with our arms full of bread, my mate said something really funny and I laughed so hard I fell backwards over a very high wall and landed on my head.
I don't really remember falling or landing, I just remember a white noise in my ears and sitting on the floor with bread around me, until my mates' screams permeated my head and I realised I must have fallen over. I got up and we walked back home, but the back of my head was pretty much open according to my mate, so he panic-called an ambulance eventually. I got to the hospital and had like eight stitches in the back of my head. I still have the scar on the back of my head today.
I was at an 18th birthday party in a community hall. It was actually quite a civilised affair, with the birthday girl's family there and everything, but I had a small to middle-sized drug problem so I was sneaking off to do ketamine in the toilets at regular intervals. At some point later in the evening, me and my boyfriend at the time – who had also been taking ketamine – decided to participate in a piggy-back race. Unsurprisingly, this didn’t go well, and he slipped, causing me to front-flip off his shoulders and land on my collarbone and left arm.
I hate attention, so I waved everyone off and told them I was fine, and pushed through to the end of the party. It wasn't until the ketamine had worn off and I tried to get into bed that I realised how much pain I was in: it literally took me 15 minutes to lower myself from a seated position to lying down. I woke up the next morning and cried to my mum until she took me to A&E, where I found out I'd sprained both my collarbone and arm. I spent the next month in a sling.
I had too much ket and K ciders at Printworks and I fell and smashed my face on the floor. My teeth went through my lip and broke. I got taken to A&E by ambulance and was just sitting in the back picking pieces of tooth out of my flesh. My teeth are only chipped, but they have to be removed at some point because they're dead. I'm going to get tooth implants at 23.