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Don't Drink Antifreeze

Illustration for article titled Dont Drink Antifreeze

Or else you will end up in the hospital. Ask me how I know.

To make a few things clear, I did not intentionally drink antifreeze and I was not trying to hurt myself. This was simply a stupid mistake that I shall not live through again. Now onto the story.


This past Tuesday was like any normal day. I woke up, took a shower, got dressed, drove to school, grabbed a water bottle out of the back of my car, and walked inside.

Upon taking my first large sip of the water, I realized that something is way off. The water was extremely bitter and left my lips and tongue with a burning sensation that I most certainly did not enjoy. Not thinking about this, I take two more major sips of the water and experience the same thing: burning lips and tongue, except I’m starting to feel lightheaded and my stomach hurts. At this point I realize that I had consumed antifreeze.


How do I know this? Well, for some reason that I cannot explain, I keep (kept) a bottle of antifreeze in the same bin where I keep my water bottles in the cargo area of my V70. I deduce that somehow, some way, the antifreeze got into the water.

I go to the school’s office and tell the secretary what’s wrong with me, and she advises me to call my mother. My mother finds this situation hard to believe, but I keep on pressing her about it, and she sets up a doctor’s appointment for me in half an hour.


I check myself out from school and drive to the doctor’s. Upon arriving, my doctor calls Poison Control and requests their advice. I’m asked numerous questions by the lady on the phone (“Why did you do this,” “Did someone dare you to do this?”, and so on), and she tells the doctor and I that I should go to the emergency room. So I do.

My doctor advises that my mother drive me to the ER, as he does not want me to drive while I’m feeling lightheaded. While I’m waiting for my mother, I look through the bin to see if the antifreeze bottle is leaking. Low and behold, it is. There’s antifreeze all over the bottom of the bin, touching many bottles. At this point I get really scared and wonder what’s going to happen to me.


My mother arrives, and she rushes me to the ER, scolding me for what I’ve done. Much deserved scolding, if I’m going to be honest. We arrive at WakeMed in Raleigh, NC, where we are greeted by nurses who have already been briefed on the situation by Poison Control. We joke back and forth, and I’m taken back to a room where I have blood drawn, I’m hooked up to machines, and have an IV put in.

After watching, “Fixer Upper,” on HGTV for two hours with my mother (it really makes me wonder if Chip and Jo are going to flip every house in Waco, TX. Also, aren’t they part of some homophobic mega-church?), the blood results come back with good news: my kidneys aren’t ruined! The doctor tells me that I probably consumed a lot less antifreeze than I thought I did, but it’s still good that I came into the ER to make sure.


So what did I learn from all this? Don’t drink antifreeze, or else I’ll end up in the hospital.

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