I had just finished my midterms and was ready to relax. So I returned to my school's residence and entered my messy rooms. I was planning for this day for a week. So I opened up some David Attenborough documentary on my computer and took four grams of dried psychedelic mushrooms (which is decriminalized where I live). I had taken mushrooms more than ten times before, so I wasn't really expecting something out of the ordinary.

Thirty minutes passed, and I knew mushrooms kicked around after an hour for me. Still, I also knew that I had taken some mushrooms five days ago, meaning I would have some tolerance for it, so I was expecting this trip to be nothing overwhelming. Because I usually find quality auditory experiences, especially while on a trip, enjoyable, I wanted to listen to the documentary using my brand-new headphones.

My desk was in a huge mess, and I couldn't find my headphones without searching the cluttered corner I had against the wall. So I proceeded to declutter my desk and organize it a little while the documentary was still on. Unfortunately, and unsurprisingly, I found my headphones under the pile; just as I was taking them out of their case, stuck between my desk and the wall, I saw a gram of joint I had forgotten about (weed is also legal where I live).

Naturally, I started to think if I could smoke the joint to enhance the effects of mushrooms to balance out my possible tolerance from recent use. Just as I reached the hour mark, I was 1/8th in the joint and starting to get hungry, so I ordered some junk food from a local restaurant nearby.

I was slowly starting to feel the typical effects of mushrooms. Twenty minutes later, my food arrived, and I was almost done with the documentary. So I took my food from the lobby and returned to my room. Then, perhaps feeling too happy to have finished midterms, with some effect of shrooms, I started another David Attenborough documentary while eating the food I had ordered.

Thirty minutes into the second documentary, I had finished the food and smoked another 1/8th of the joint. Maybe because I ate the food to fast, I started to feel sick and bloated. I tried to get more comfortable by wearing my comfy boxers and setting the room temperature up so that I didn't have to wear anything else.

After changing into my comfy boxers, maybe because of having high abdominal pressure, I started feeling a dull pain in my left groin towards my testicle. I thought I must have accidentally hit my testicles while getting the boxer on, so I forgot about it for ten minutes and continued watching the documentary. During those ten minutes, however, the pain still persisted and even increased in intensity. So I proceeded to examine what was going on, and as soon as I got my boxers down, I noticed an unusual swelling on my left testicle that was visible.

Starting to get concerned, I searched for my symptoms online. The first page that pops up is about testicular torsion. The first sentence I read on the page is something like this: "If you are experiencing the symptoms below, contact emergency services immediately." I read about testicular torsion and check whether I am experiencing other symptoms like nausea. Then, slightly in panic, I also check the other page that came up in the search, which also are about testicular torsion. Almost peaking on my mushroom trip, I know this might just as well be paranoia; I try to calm myself; however, the more I am focused on my left testicle more the situation starts to be scary.

I must have been tachycardic at this point because I start hyperventilating. Then, with everything feeling more intense than I wished it did, I try to focus on thinking about what I should do. Tragicomically while all this panic is happening, I hear the documentary open on one of the background tabs. As I am hyperventilating and it is hurting pretty much, I know something is very wrong, and I am afraid of fainting. Under the influence of several drugs, I must have felt like someone who could make some right medical decisions, so I lay down on my back to decrease the pressure on the veins that feed my testicle.

Under intense panic, I start to think this might be a life-threatening emergency from what I have previously gathered from the web. I look for my phone to call 911; however, I can't find it, so I rush to my door and ask for help wishing someone on my floor would hear me. No one responds; I then run to the mezzanine of the standard room, which is on my floor at the end of the corridor down my room.

As usual, there are people I know in the common room, chatting with each other. They only see above my chest, and I say, "I think I am going to die." They naturally think I am joking. Then I explain the situation- that I have taken four grams of mushrooms and a quarter gram of weed and started to feel testicular pain and that it might be testicular torsion. I want them to call 911, and after twenty seconds of pure panic, someone manages to call them. I go back to my room to gather the stuff I had taken just in case they are required if I undergo surgery or something.

As I walk down the corridor returning back to my room, I already see a friend standing in front of my room; at this point, I seriously don't care if I am naked; I give them stuff I have taken, including a pain killer for my headache that morning. Then, I lay down on my back again. Panicking, I try to open the window more, my elbow hits my bonsai tree, and it topples over, breaking the ceramic pot. With me acting very panicked, my friends are thinking this is purely a bad trip; I insist to my friends, trying to calm me down while I am lying down, that I know what a bad trip is and that it is seriously hurting.

One of the longest two minutes after, a residence don, comes with an emergency bag, highly suspecting that I am having a bad trip, and asks me how I am feeling. Still, hyperventilating, I can't form a sentence and just continue to say that my left testicle hurts. Considering this is a very out-of-the-ordinary situation for them, they ask if they could call their supervisor for help; in panic, I say that I don't care and I just want 911 to come. They exit the room also in a panic, then a friend with benefit of mine enters the room, looking worried, asking me how I am feeling. I say this might be the worse way to die- everything hurts more than it should. I continue to ask that if I am going crazy or not; scared, they just start to cry, considering me abusing substances and embarrassing myself.

After what seriously felt like an hour, paramedics arrive; they are also convinced that this is a bad trip; they check my vitals, and I look to see that I have around 200 bpm. They say I am all good, just panicked, I try to explain myself again, but they say I am fine. They help me get my pants on, and I lay down on the stretcher. They restrain me using some belts, although I am not acting in any way violent. At the same time, in a state that is not closely related to reality, I start thinking about whether they are sending me to a mental hospital. On the way out, for some reason, I want help from one of my friends to convince the paramedics that I am in a life-threatening situation.

Thinking of scenarios on the ambulance, I ask if the ambulance we are currently in is real or not, stating that they are not giving me anything to sedate me and that I would die. When we get to the hospital, I still think to myself that I will die, so when given a sheet to fill in my personal information, I write to my family that I love them etc.; I couldn't even remember what date it was and any contacts anyway.

After about thirty minutes, my friend, who also hitched a ride in the ambulance, manages to calm me down with some 3b1b videos, which I love. Then, feeling way better, I apologize to the paramedics about the situation, and we chat about how their day is going. Still, under the effect of mushrooms, I ask them if opening some music is okay. Then, we start talking about how this situation is similar to what comedians tell on stage with some excellent music in the background and chewing on ice. I enjoy it very much.

Then I get my phone and apologize to the friends I made worried; they just say they are happy that I am good. After that, I haven't interacted with anyone for a week in my residence. Honestly, I don't feel embarrassed about what happened, but maybe they don't want to interact with me, which is cool. The day after, I visited a urologist to check, and they diagnosed me with varicocele which is an enlargement of the veins that go out of the testicle. I also learned that testicular torsion is not life-threatening but is still an emergency because testes die without proper medical care.

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TL;DR: While badly tripping on shrooms, I thought I had testicular torsion and couldn't find my phone, so I ran to a public space naked to ask for someone to call 911; it turns out I just had a varicocele.