I sensed that I was flat on my back in a moving vehicle, but not much more. My sleeve was being rolled up, and I felt a familiar pumping-up pressure on my upper arm. Someone was checking my vital signs. From the cold of the vehicle I could hear doors open and felt a warm blast of air as I was moved down a long corridor. Looking up through glazed eyes, I could see green tiled walls and bright fluorescent lights above me. "One, two, three, lift." I was now on a softer bed, drifting in and out of awareness. "You have to drink this," someone was saying while holding a tall Styrofoam container, filled with a tasteless ink-black liquid, to my lips. I later learned that the charcoal drink was given to absorb the toxins that were in me, following my having taken a handful of pills. I am six foot six; I have very big hands.