I love my city, San Diego, but my heart’s always in Las Vegas.
That’s what makes the Golden Nugget casino in the heart of downtown so special.
As I sat at the bar and chatted with a few of my friends as I ordered a drink and walked out of the casino with the cash in hand, I knew I was not alone.
Las Vegas has been the city’s capital for more than 50 years, but it was a little over 20 years ago that I first became aware of the gambling addiction epidemic sweeping the country.
The city was still reeling from the aftermath of the 1993 World Trade Center bombing, and it was the first time I’d ever heard of any real violence at one of the citys most famous casinos.
I was there in October 1992 to play a slot machine.
It was a Monday night.
I had no idea how I’d end up in this position.
My first two hours in the casino were spent playing slot machines, but I soon found myself at the tables of other patrons who’d been addicted to the same games for a long time.
The gambling culture had spread across the country and the gambling world was a small part of the problem, but the addiction was so widespread that I felt like I had to act quickly.
So I decided to call in sick.
The next morning I went to the nearest hospital and asked if I could be hospitalized because my symptoms were not going to go away.
They told me to come in and stay overnight, because they didn’t have enough beds.
I went into a room and lay on a bed with my head on the pillow.
My arms were wrapped around my chest.
I didn’t know what was happening to me, but something was bothering me.
I remember thinking, This is what it’s like to be sick.
I don’t know why, but when I woke up the next day I had a strange feeling.
I could feel the blood coming out of my mouth.
My body felt like it was in pain, and I could see the spots on my head and arms.
I’d lost my appetite.
I couldn’t stand up straight.
My hands and feet felt numb.
My heart beat very fast.
I thought I was going to pass out, but in fact I was still feeling pain and I was terrified.
I knew that if I stayed up that night, I would be dead.
I started to panic.
I felt that something was wrong with me, that I was dying.
I tried to call my sister, who was sitting nearby and who I thought would be able to help me.
She was able to calm me down, but she was too scared to speak up because she was afraid of the consequences of speaking up.
I still didn’t want to go to the hospital because I had too much to lose.
But I needed to get help.
I called a friend of mine.
He drove me to a hotel, where he took me to the emergency room.
When I arrived at the emergency department, the doctor told me that I had been injected with fentanyl.
I told him I didn�t understand what fentanyl was and he just told me it was some sort of chemical that can cause death.
He told me there were no deaths from fentanyl poisoning, and that he could only recommend that I take a painkiller called Narcan.
Narcan is an opioid medication that has been approved for use by the Food and Drug Administration to help treat opioid-induced pain.
It helps relieve the pain and anxiety of opioid addiction.
It has also been shown to be effective in treating some forms of PTSD.
But it can cause addiction, and so my friend recommended I take Narcan because he thought I could survive the injection.
It wasn’t until I got to the ER that I realized what the Narcan was doing to me.
When I arrived there, my skin was starting to peel from my body and my eyes were bleeding.
I wanted to scream, but there was nothing I could do.
I said to the nurse, `I�m dying.
If you can save me, then I will live.’
I felt so bad about what had happened to me and my friends, and then I realized that my life was about to change.
I got into the operating room and was given Narcan and I remember telling the nurse I would take it.
It felt like a miracle.
I took the Narca and began breathing on my own.
It took about three hours before I was able, in a bid to get to sleep, to stop the injection of the drug.
The pain was excruciating, and there were times when I had tears rolling down my cheeks.
I would lie there for hours at a time with aching muscles and muscles that would feel like I was being held down.
After a couple of days, the pain eased and I began to feel normal again.
The Narcan helped me fall asleep and I felt better, but after a few days of recovery