Reg overdoses on a Flight to Halifax, Nova Scotia

Editors note:  Reggie was flying to Montreal to buy drugs regularly. Although he was selling drugs, he was clearly at a point where this had become necessary to support his very expensive habit. This was the first of a few overdoses that reggie experienced over the years ... ]

I took about 3 grams (of heroin) out of the bag for (immediate) personal use and packed up the rest and mailed it back home.  I had driven to the airport in Halifax so I had to fly back there to get the truck.  As soon as I got on the plane I went to the bathroom and snorted a big line.  I thought it would feel good to be high when we took/lifted off.  I was flying in First also. 

After I sat down, I don’t remember anything until I woke up with an oxygen mask on my face and all the crew standing around me.  They told me that I had turned blue and they thought I was dying.

We were just about to land in Halifax and they called for an ambulance to meet us.  I panicked and ran to the washroom.  In there, I shoved the bag of heroin up my arse, forgetting that heroin makes you constipated and worrying that I was going to get busted. After I came out of the bathroom, I told them that I had taken some Gravol for my stomach and had drank a few beer at the airport.  This could possibly explain me blacking out.  They bought my story and cancelled the ambulance.  What a relief.  But I decided that I wasn’t in a very good condition to drive so I took a cab into Halifax and got a hotel.  Of course the heroin had made me constipated and I couldn’t get the bag out.  I paced back and forth for three days worrying that it was going to burst open and kill me.  But I was too scared of getting busted to get some help.  When I finally worked it out (the bag), I stayed for another 3 days until it was all gone.  But when I did get home, my package was waiting for me.  And my wife was in a bad mood.  I didn’t even try and explain where I was.  I just said, “don’t ask me”, and she didn’t.  That why I liked her so much.  I also had something to do with why she left me, no doubt.  But I didn’t care about anything.  I had the package.

Reg's mother saves him

On February 2, 1997, Reg's mother came to visit him, and found him overdosed and in critical condition.  She called the ambulance and he was taken by paramedics to hospital.   Reggie later wrote the following about the overdose, on his 3rd day in Jail, on October 30, 1998

“Woke up surrounded by paramedics.  I’m not sure if this was the beginning or the ending of the worst/ month miserable years of my life …. or just another day.”  

 I was brought to the hospital (QEH) on February 2 of this year, after my parents, on a chance / random visit, found me unconscious in my bed and were unable to wake me. At the time, I would have preferred that they left me to die. Death seemed, in my twisted thinking, to be the only answer to my problems. But it was not to be.

A week was spent in Ward 9 where I was taken off the drugs which led to my despair – cocaine, heroin, alcohol, valium, seconal, methadone, morphine, dilaudid, Demerol, codeine, percocet, fiorinal, xanax, secat, halidid, and all the others that don’t come to mind at the moment. Seven miserable days spent there and then I was sent to the detox in Ch’town, where I spent 14 miserable days.

I felt unable to deal with the pain and suffering I was going through and escaped from this place on two occasions, only to be taken back by police or family on both occasions (many stories to tell but remember – condensed version). Following this I was sent to Souris detox for 10 days (miserable, of course), where I was able to retain my sanity only (mostly) with the support and companionship of fellow patients, especially Alice B. who plays a large part in my story (sorry – condensed version).

Souris is my hometown, the place of my birth, where my life was shaped (?). At the time of my story in Souris, my mother and father were in San Francisco visiting my brother Mike (oldest of 3), an engineer (I fill the position of black sheep within the family).

 

Detox & Depression

My mother is a nurse at Souris Detox so I was only allowed to be there because she is on vacation, otherwise it would be a conflict of interest, unfortunately. My parents live on the same street as the detox and I was able to see the house from my room there, which also made my stay difficult. Adding to this I had recently separated from my wife and 2 children, Steven, 10, and [Valerie], 1, who was born during my stay in detox the previous year. I think we may be the textbook dysfunctional family.

With the help of my family doctor, Ambrose Kennedy, a childhood friend who has recently returned to Souris after a 20 year absence spent in Ireland. Ambrose, his brother Gerard, a very good friend of mine in my childhood, lived just down the street from us but moved (back) to Cork, Ireland when I was 8 years old. When my parents returned from SF, I was released from Detox to stay in their home. My most prominent memory of this month spent there is the shotgun which I gazed at every night before I went to bed and every morning when I woke, contemplating a way out of my misery.

Severely depressed, and feeling that I just could [not?] handle life at the time I asked to be committed to some sort of treatment facility. This turned out to be Lonewater Farm in (outside of) St. John, New Brunswick. I went there on March 29 still miserable and unhappy. I had expected it to be a serious treatment facility but mostly it was just a ‘warehouse’ for winos from St. John wanting to get off the streets for a while. 3 meals a day and a roof over their heads, and, of course, a welfare check.

My stay there, sick as I was, was made easier by several guys from P.E.I. who I met and befriended there: Ken from Montague, Bob from Charlottetown, and Tom from Charlottetown. All of these guys are involved in my story – condensed version. Bob and Tom later came to stay at Talbot House with me. After 6 weeks at Lonewater, I went in to St. John on a routine trip, and went straight to a bar. I hadn’t planned this; I just felt drawn there (fate? destiny?). Of course, I had several beer which led to my expulsion from Lonewater, and my return to P.E.I.

After getting kicked out of there I realized that being sober for six weeks hadn’t been that bad and I became determined to continue to explore this lifestyle choice. I should also mention that I went on a 2 day cocaine binge when I got to Souris which also helped me to come to the realization that I didn’t want that way of life anymore. This also taught me that some positive can come out of a relapse and we need not always focus on the negative, as is usually the case, especially within the justice system.

After several days in Souris I contacted Dr. Jones, who has dealt with me for several years in her capacity as an addictions specialist, and asked her to refer me to Talbot House. Talbot was then under the supervision of Inez T., who is now on a leave of absence to attend Dalhousie University, where she is studying for her Masters Degree in Psychology. Inez is a stern but caring lady, sort of a motherly type. She interviewed me and accepted me into the house.

Several weeks later she told me that she was unsure whether to accept me or not (she has a background in corrections and I have long been involved in criminal behavior. She was dubious of my sincerity and motivation as I had pending legal issues). She told me that what swayed her in my favor was that she saw a part of me, a small part inside my soul, that wanted something more out of life and she thought that part needed to be nourished and nurtured and allowed to grow. This, I believe, is the essence of my spirituality.